The Other World
by lillelouis
Summary: Most worlds are only parted by a line of fabric as thin and delicate as silk. Many cracks and passages exist between the different worlds, so one has to wonder why the Pevensies never found their way into this one. Perhaps they didn't know you had to die?
1. Chapter 1: Landing in Stranger Places

**Disclaimer:** Lord Of The Rings belongs to Tolkien. The Chronicles of Narnia belongs to Lewis. I only borrow.

**Author's Note:** Yes indeedy, I have started a new story. It has been a few months in the making. This is very different from anything I've done before - not in the sense that it's a crossover, but how I've chosen to write it. This story spans through the events of Lord of the Rings, yes. But it does so only in the sense that it offers a look at all the "missing scenes" if you may. Not that all the chapters in this story are missing scenes, but it focuses on the stuff we don't see in the movies. The reason for this is that I think a lot of stories have been written to follow scenes from the books and movies. And especially a lot of Narnia/LOTR crossovers. Perhaps because the books compliment each other so spectacularly and because the Narnia universe is left open for enterpretation where LOTR is not.

Consider this a teaser. I'm on my 45 chapter now and writing has slowed down a little so I'm going to be updating a little slower just so I can keep the backlog of publishable chapters :) Happy reading and tell me what you think of it.

**Ages:** Lucy is 15 (31 in Narnian years), Edmund is 17 (33 in Narnian years), Susan is 19 (35 in Narnian years) and Peter is 20 (36 in Narnian years).

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><p>"<em>There are many powers in the world, for good or for evil. Some are greater than I am. Against some I have not yet been measured. But my time is coming." - Gandalf the Grey<em>

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><p><span>The Other World<span>

First Book: Fellowship of the Ring…

Chapter 1 – Landing in Stranger Places

Later on Susan would remember everything as clear as daylight. She would remember the car and the damage it caused upon collision with her body. Bones snapping and blood vessels bursting. She would remember the days she spent in a coma, alone in an American hospital. She would vividly recall how it felt to be sucked through a pin-size hole into another world and the rush of excitement when she first arrived. She thought it was Narnia.

She was horribly wrong.

All around her, the forest was alive. It was chilly, but not quite cold. She could hear water babbling not far from her prone position. She shifted her legs and flexed her fingers carefully. The smell of wet soil and greens was almost overwhelming. She only had a fuzzy recollection of what had happened. The vague image of something large heading straight for her before it all turned hazy. She had been in America; that much she knew. Her family had been in England and she had discovered a new level of loneliness. And then something had happened. She did not yet know exactly what _it_ was, but knew she needed to find out, and fast. She tried her legs again and opened her eyes.

It was indeed a forest. Tall, grey trees rose high above her. They looked like birches, but not. Like something not of her world. "Oh dear," It struck her suddenly that this could very well _not_ be her world. She looked around, but didn't recognize anything immediately. It didn't alarm her as much as she would've thought. She slowly gathered her feet under her and discovered she was still wearing the navy blue heels and the light blue party dress, paid for with the money her mother sent over three weeks before. It was now caked in dirt. She frowned delicately, but quickly disregarded it in favor of another look at her surroundings.

They _were_ stunning. She couldn't help but smile when a bird chirped nearby. She stood up and straightened her back with an audible crack. A deep sigh echoed through the trees. Maybe she had landed wrong? She wasn't quite as confused by her own disorientation any more. She realized quite clearly that she was in Narnia. But it did strike her as odd since Aslan had said that her and Peter could never again return. Perhaps something dire had happened that required their help? _But what_? What in Narnia could not be handled by the Great Lion himself? So perhaps this wasn't her old home? She took a second look. Things could have changed dramatically since her last visit. The geography could have altered beyond anything she'd be able to recognize.

Then she realized something even more disturbing. Because, remember that despite her love for Narnia, she had just had a very traumatic experience. She had been in a terrible accident, plucked from one world and then sucked into another. And if it wasn't her old home, then there was only one other place she could think of. Aslan's country. The final haven for those who died with light in their hearts. She liked to think she was worthy of seeing Aslan's country, or at least unworthy of going to hell. She remembered her history lessons in Narnia with a sinking feeling.

This could mean only one thing: She was dead. It felt like a lead weight settling on her chest. Her eyes watered and she sank to her knees. Suddenly it all seemed so overwhelming.

After the moment of upheaval, her emotions simmered down to a thick sadness. She was to spend Aslan only knew how many years without her siblings. They were alive and she wasn't. But something changed. Something inside her hardened. Then and there, in the solitude of the forest, she vowed she wouldn't mourn her loss until her siblings were returned to her. She would remain Susan the Gentle; kind, loving, quiet. One thing she had learned from England: Women were supposed to be seen, not heard. Something she had begrudgingly taken to heart after years of failed attempts to speak her mind in the presence of men.

After wiping her cheeks, she took off her shoes and started walking towards the sound of water. She reached a beautiful river, carving through the deep forest. It was so serene and she could almost feel something guide her. But despite the soothing presence, and despite her best attempts to stop, she was still thinking about her siblings. It was the knowledge that they were still alive and that it would probably be decades before she would see them again. The knowledge that she had left them a second time. She knew they would never stop loving her, but did they still know she loved them?

She wondered sadly what they would say. How they would react to news of her death. They would cry, of course, but would they realize where she had gone? Would Lucy assure her older brothers that they shouldn't weep; that their beloved sister had only returned home and would be waiting for them? She hoped so.

With slow and slightly uneasy steps she followed the river. The black soil squeezed up between her toes, but she didn't much mind. A white arch caught her attention. She had found a bridge. It didn't look Narnian, but was still very beautiful. It looked almost like something out of a fairytale. She stopped, unsure of what to do when she heard voices and saw bodies close by. She was awkwardly conscious of her own appearance. The voices gained in strength and she took a deep breath. She was a queen after all and if this was truly Aslan's country they would surely recognize her. She was in no danger. This was the mantra she whispered as she squared her shoulders and stepped forward to greet the travelers. The second they spotted her, all stopped. It was a party of four. A tall man, and, what looked like, three children. And a snow-white pony.

She suddenly forgot what she was going to say and was left standing with her mouth open. Luckily one of the children spoke up. "Can we help you, madam?" He had a pleasantly lilting accent and red, curly hair. She looked closer and realized he was no child. He had the face of a man. All three little ones did. She became even more confused. Were they dwarves?

"Is everything alright, milady?" the tall, dark stranger asked with genuine concern. He seemed the trustworthy sort.

"Are you lost?" one of the other little ones asked. This one had blond hair and melancholic eyes.

"Quite," she confessed with a very weak smile.

"Are you an elf?" the third, little one asked in awe.

Susan frowned, thinking he thought her to be short and bearded – which was how elves looked in her world, if you remember. "No." Her voice was a little more indignant than she meant and the one who spoke up quickly looked chastised. She immediately felt bad for shouting and took another cleansing breath. "No. I am Queen Susan the Gentle." Her voice managed to exude tranquility as it had during her reign.

"Who?" the little one asked again.

She frowned. Did they not know their Narnian kings and queens of old? Perhaps they just didn't know their Narnian history.

"I do not believe I'm familiar with that name or title, milady." the tall, dark, handsome one answered. Estel looked at the strange woman. For she was no elf, though she easily could have passed for one. Pale skin, blue eyes, dark hair. She reminded him of Arwen. But there was something broken about her. She looked so fragile. More so than any elf could.

She swallowed and took the last step onto the little road in front of her. The tall man held out a hand to assist her. She quickly let go. "Perhaps you know of Peter the Magnificent?" Her voice had a minute shiver. All of them looked a might bit confused. She guessed the titles of Narnian kings and queens were as foreign to them as the forty-five different ways to address Peacocks had once been to her. With yet another sigh she accepted that she would not quite get the warm welcome she had been hoping. Remember, she had been feeling awfully lonely whilst still in America and such feelings didn't just disappear. Especially since there was now, not only an ocean, but a world between herself and her family. And so her worry for the wellbeing of said family lessened her smile.

"Could you be so kind as to tell me where we are?" She tried to remain graceful though her dress was in shambles and her skin was covered in mud. Her feet looked horrid. Just then she noticed the feet of the three little men. They were bare with thick hair on them. She made a mental note for later to ask, but didn't bother just yet.

"You are just outside Rivendell, milady. On the bridge of Mitheithel." the dark-haired man answered. "I am Estel," He did a quick curtsey bow and returned his bright blue eyes to hers.

"I'm sorry, but what's Rivendell?" She was beginning to feel a headache approaching. Tiredness as well.

He frowned at her question. "An Elf-city in Middle-Earth, milady." She seemed to have overcome the fear he had seen in her mere moments ago. It was transforming and reshaping to short tempered behavior and anger before his very eyes.

She stopped him quite rudely with a raised hand. Her headache was making her cranky. "Please, call me Susan."

He nodded, but didn't take his eyes from her. "Perhaps we could accompany you to the House of Elrond, Susan?"

She flashed a quick smile and accepted his arm. _He caught on quick_. The three little ones were introduced as Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took and Samwise Gamgee. Otherwise known as Merry, Pippin and Sam. She found she quite liked them already. They had a sort of glow around them. And they graciously slowed their speed to match her cautious steps, though she was surprised to realize she was moving slower than they with their short legs.

Estel had passed the reins of Bill the Pony onto Sam and graciously held her at arm's length. She had abandoned the navy blue pumps just beyond the bridge with a weary feeling. She tried to disregard the weariness and focused on something else. She wondered about the bridge again. Never in all her years as a Narnian queen had she seen such craftsmanship. Such a strange name for it as well. "I'm sorry, what did you say that bridge was called?" She glanced at Estel.

"Mitheithel." he answered patiently. It seemed he was not affronted that she didn't remember. She didn't know he had an almost uncanny understanding of her already. He remembered the lost expression she had worn upon meeting them. He wondered what had brought her there as she repeated the name slowly to herself.

It was beautiful. _Mitheithel_. It almost rolled off one's tongue. But it wasn't Narnian. Or it was a language in Narnia she had never heard before and she had heard many. Through the years of speaking to dignitaries from other countries, as well as Talking Animals, some with their own pidgin and Creole languages, she was quite well versed in the art of speech. Just as Edmund. The two of them had the best ear for language and music. The memory of him brought a chaotic whirl of emotions. She sighed deeply and frowned when her breath hitched. Estel would've heard that.

"Are you alright, Susan?" His voice was very gentle. He noticed the shiver that ran up her hand and into his arm.

She nodded, but found trouble speaking. Her eyes returned to the ground to watch where she stepped and he retreated. She did, however, notice the worried glances he sent her way until they reached the city. The way was marked by an arch in white stone with delicate carvings. It was as beautiful as the bridge and clearly of similar design. As they entered and her eyes swept over the buildings and arches, she decided to focus solely on her present situation and not think of family. It would only hinder her. "It's beautiful," Her voice was one of complete awe and appreciation. Her bright eyes took in every detail. It almost seemed as if the city had been built around the forest. Trees and cliffs were pivotal parts of the design and structure of most of the buildings.

She emitted a little laugh as they made their way further into Rivendell.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I'm going to leave it here and give it a week or so (I say a week, but we all know I never keep my own deadlines - usually I skip ahead). Let me know what you thought. If I nailed Susan's character? If not, what I can do to improve upon it? If you like the fact that there is yet ANOTHER Narnia/LOTR crossover in the world? If you already now know who Estel is? And if you know why Tolkien decided to name the pony Bill? )


	2. Chapter 2: Trading Stories

**Disclaimer:** Read previous.

**Author's Note:** As I said about not keeping with my own deadlines. We can just pretend a week has passed ;) Thanks to the reviewers. Love you guys!

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><p>Chapter 2 – Trading Stories<p>

Susan could barely contain all the emotions, swirling around inside her. All of them seemed intent on monopolizing her mind. One moment she was terribly exited about all the new impressions. The next she was consumed with sorrow over the lingering sense of loneliness and worry. Then there was the heartbreaking fear over the things she couldn't control. She missed her siblings terribly and couldn't, no matter how persistently she ignored it, shake the feeling she was forgetting something.

And throughout it all Estel remained the perfect gentleman. He, and the three hobbits, for that was their race, escorted her to the house of Elrond. There she saw her first elf. He looked mostly like a man, certainly not like she imagined elves to look. Tall and willowy was he, much like the dryads of Narnia. His hair was the color of dry soil and his eyes, the clearest blue.

"Welcome, Estel," He bowed to Susan's companions before extending a hand to Susan herself. "And who is this? The companions of Frodo Baggins were expected. I did _not_ expect a woman."

Susan felt the fledgling stages of irritation arise at his slightly condescending tone, but reeled it in as a good queen should.

"This is Queen Susan the Gentle. She fell on our trail just beyond the Ford of Bruinen, my Lord."

Lord Elrond stared deep into her eyes, as if searching the origins of her soul. She stared back and summoned all remaining patience.

"My Lord, I believe the queen is in need of rest," Estel said. Susan shot a thankful look his way and almost smiled.

"Indeed. It must have been a long journey," Lord Elrond agreed quietly. It was almost as if he knew more about Susan than she did herself.

"It was," she answered in her most serene tone of voice. The most important thing was to NOT PANIC. No matter how frightening this new situation was, she had to remain alert and calm.

"And I assume the same goes for the rest of you?" Elrond gazed down at the three hobbits.

"We'd like to see Mr. Frodo, Sir." Sam spoke up, trying his very best to be brave.

Elrond smiled pleasantly. "Estel will take you," He arched his brows questioningly at Estel, who nodded.

"Come, my friends." He walked them into the grand house.

Elrond studied Susan quietly before standing aside and motioning her forward. "You are not of this world," he said after a few paces.

Susan wasn't surprised he had realized it so soon. "And this is not my home," she answered sadly, thinking of course of Narnia.

He immediately saw her sadness and softened his countenance considerably, till something almost tender stole over him. "Do you remember how you came to be here?" Unknown to her, she reminded Lord Elrond somewhat of his daughter.

She looked down in concentration. Her filthy feet were leaving splotches on the floor. "I remember a sense of falling and a feeling of being squeezed through the head of a pin whilst simultaneously stretching beyond my limits." She looked up. "Why would Aslan bring me _here_?" Things were making less and less sense with every passing minute.

"Who is Aslan?" Elrond questioned and though his voice was calm, Susan still reacted as though he had shouted.

"He's. . ." She struggled to put her thoughts in order and into words. "He's the King of Kings, Lord Narnia. The Lion?"

Elrond looked questioning, but remained silent. Seeing the distress he had caused the young woman, he decided things could be settled later. He still had to go see Frodo. And perhaps a trip to the library, to check the ancient and the – as of yet, _still_ – unfulfilled prophecies of Galadriel? Also he would have to speak with Gandalf privately. Could be the old wizard had valuable input regarding the latest guest of Rivendell. He gazed at her disheveled appearance. "Someone will come to assist you shortly."

As if on cue, a tall, dark-haired woman appeared around the corner. Elrond smiled in an almost tender way. "Queen Susan, this is Arwen. My daughter," And the two women truly did look alike.

Arwen smiled and did a little curtsey. "Your majesty," If only a bit shorter, Susan's beauty was almost as mesmerizing as the elf's.

Susan could do nothing, but smile back at Arwen's gentle demeanor. The Narnian queen curtsied as well and followed the elf-lady into the room given to her. Inside there was a large bed and a curtained off area, containing – if the steam was anything to go by – a hot bath. Susan's spirits instantly lifted, not unnoticed by Arwen. The tall, elven lady giggled and helped her undress, though her earthen-styled dress and underwear were simple enough to don and remove on one's own. The two women didn't speak much. Arwen focused on removing the mud from Susan's hair and Susan focused on the lovely sensation of hot water and following cleanliness. She was dried and dressed in a long, dark-blue nightgown and tucked in. For a moment she thought it would be impossible to sleep in the middle of such a wonderful day. She quickly realized her mistake as Arwen left the window open and departed. The sound of wind blowing through the trees lulled her to sleep in minutes.

The next morning Lord Elrond waited by her door to accompany her to the dining-hall. There she found Estel, Sam, Merry, and Pippin eating a sturdy breakfast with two friends. One was an old man, dressed in grey, who was taller than Estel. The other, she suspected, was another hobbit. She remembered the name Mr. Frodo from the day before. For a second she was unsure if she should intrude, but Pippin spotted her before she could fully make up her mind, much less make a graceful retreat.

"Queen Susan!" He waved her over with wild gestures and she couldn't help but smile. "Gandalf, this is the lady I _toold_ you about. She's a queen!" His voice was trilling with laughter and friendliness and she found herself hard pressed not to laugh. She nodded when Gandalf stood to seat her.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir." She smiled meekly.

Immediately it seemed as if Gandalf's expression softened. "The pleasure is mine, your highness." He pulled out a chair for her and she found herself bowing regally. It was easy to slip into courtly manners around such gentlemen. Estel stood briefly as well, though the hobbits remained seated due to the effort it cost them to get on the tall chairs to begin with.

"Please, eat." Estel gestured to the empty plate and the table loaded with food.

She smiled and helped herself. Not even years of royalty had made her comfortable with others serving her food. Gandalf and Pippin seemed immensely pleased to see a woman of her supposed stature eat so well. She was indeed famished.

"Hello, milady." Frodo greeted softly.

She noticed he barely had any food on his plate and looked pale. "Am I correct to assume you are Mr. Frodo?" Her tone was a bit abrasive, she realized, but these people seemed to care very little for courtly manners.

The dark-haired hobbit smiled bashfully and nodded.

"And pray tell us your tale, Queen Susan." Gandalf asked.

"Susan, please," she answered automatically. The others nodded while Estel smiled. "And I'm not certain it wouldn't sound as complete lunacy," She couldn't hide her blush and prompted smiles from all six men.

"I think you'll find our minds quite open to all sorts of tales," Gandalf answered.

Susan nodded and began. She started at the very beginning we all know so well it will not bear repetition. She told of the adventures she had had in Narnia and of the family she had left behind in England.

"I don't understand. How can you be dead if you're right here?" Merry asked.

She smiled. "I don't quite understand myself."

Gandalf leaned closer. "This Aslan-creature. He interests me greatly. You speak as if you know him."

"I know him almost as well as he knows me." She smiled and told the story of the Great Lion as best she could - starting with the first dawn of Narnia and the arrival of Jadis. Some they had already heard from her previous story, but as all her siblings, she was a great storyteller and captivated them quite easily.

"That is a great tale, indeed, Lady Susan," Frodo said quietly after she had finished. What she did not know then was that Frodo was quite the storyteller himself. A gift he inherited after his equally gifted uncle Bilbo.

She smiled and glanced out the windows, noting it was almost noon. They agreed to depart till dinner, but not before Estel leaned over the table. "You need not worry about our belief of your tale, Susan. You are one of us as surely as had you been with us from the start."

She was slightly shocked over, what she saw to be, the vow of loyalty and friendship. Even more shocked, was she to see the four hobbits agree wholeheartedly. She nodded her thanks and allowed Gandalf to escort her to see Lord Elrond.

The elf-lord was waiting when she and Gandalf entered his library. "Queen Susan," He took her hand and bowed, to which Susan curtsied in return. "I trust Estel and Gandalf saw to your needs?"

She smiled. "Certainly."

He led her to a small settee. "Tell me. What did they say of Frodo?"

She glanced at Gandalf who wordlessly encouraged her to tell the truth. Just then he reminded her so fiercely of Aslan that she gave him a brief smile. "Well, Frodo told me about the Shire and his uncle Bilbo."

Elrond nodded. "Did he tell you of Bilbo's adventures?"

"Yes," She smiled, remembering the story about the three trolls.

"And I take it you are no stranger to adventures yourself?"

"No." She was confused where the questions were leading. For the first time since arriving, she felt a stab of worry.

Lord Elrond quickly noticed and reached to grasp her hands lightly. "Do not worry yourself, young queen. We mean you no harm."

She nodded and tried to smile, but found the fear had left her quite hollow and fragile.

"Tell me, my queen. Did he tell you of his own adventure?"

This confused her. She _had_ noticed that Frodo was awfully pale and weak, but thought it poor taste to ask or comment on it. Was this perhaps a remnant of the adventure Elrond spoke of?

"Frodo has carried, and carries with him still, a ring." Elrond motioned for Gandalf to sit as well. "This is the reason he left the Shire, you understand."

Susan nodded, but couldn't understand why a ring could force someone to abandon their home.

As if reading her mind, Lord Elrond leaned closer. "This ring is no ordinary ring. It is a ring of power."

"A force that cannot be harnessed." Gandalf interjected.

Susan nodded and remained silent.

"Frodo has brought the ring here so that we may decide what to do with it." Lord Elrond continued.

She frowned. "But I don't understand. Why would elves decide this alone if the ring is as dangerous you say?"

At this Elrond smiled. "It is not only ours to decide. It falls to all races. Men, elves and dwarves. That is why your sudden appearance both thrills and worries me."

Susan was holding her breath. "Why?"

"Because a prophesy was written many centuries ago," He glanced at Gandalf. "It predicts as follows '_As the four corners of the earth draw nearer, all shall be laid bare and the two towers shall fall_'. The two towers of which it speaks are the towers of Sauron and Saruman." The elf-lord shared a meaningful look with Gandalf. "One sits in Isengard and the other is surrounded by orcs, deep in the bowels of Mordor."

"What are orcs?" Susan glanced from one to the other.

It was Gandalf who answered with a grin. "Vile creatures that I pray you shall never be forced to lay eyes upon."

Susan drew a new breath. "And how is this ring dangerous?"

"The ring of Sauron was created to empower the wearer. And there was only ever one intended wearer."

"Sauron himself?" Susan guessed.

Both men nodded. "Through the ages the Ring has changed hands four times since its creation, nearly 3000 years ago."

Susan's face fell as she had a feeling she would not like what came next.

"First was at a moment of victory over Sauron, when Isildur, a king of men, took the Ring from Sauron and kept it for himself. Second was nearly two and a half thousand years after Isildur's death."

"Who found it?" she asked in a riveted voice.

"The creature known as Gollum."

"That's the creature from Bilbo's tale!" she exclaimed.

Elrond nodded. "Indeed it is."

"But . . ." Her expression became grave. "But Bilbo stole that ring from Gollum, so-"

Elrond nodded again and continued. "So the ring spent nearly fifty years in the Shire until recently when a young hobbit inherited it from his uncle . . . and brought it here."

_Frodo_. She inhaled sharply, but wasn't given a chance to reply.

"Frodo carries a great burden. The wound he received on Weathertop, he will carry for the rest of his life."

"What about the ring? What will happen with it?" she asked in despair.

Elrond sighed and silently passed the word to Gandalf. "It is our hope that the council will see reason and decide to destroy it. Regardless, I will speak my mind at the gathering and advocate for its destruction."

"What gathering?" Susan asked.

"There is a meeting between men, elves and dwarves scheduled to take place in just a few days time."

She nodded just as a new question struck her. "But if you want it destroyed, why don't you just do it now?"

"The One Ring was forged in Mount Doom and only there can it be undone." Lord Elrond replied.

She inhaled deeply. Her somewhat pleasant mood vanished under the weight of their information. She hadn't been brought to Narnia to rest, as she first expected. She had been brought to an entirely new world to fight in yet another war. Though neither of the men mentioned it, she knew there was a very real chance that a full-fledged war could erupt. After all, it only took two opposing sides to create unrest.

After their meeting, they left her be for the rest of the day. She glanced at some of the old books, but found she couldn't read the language most were written in. In the end she spent most of the day, pondering the information shared with her by Gandalf and Elrond.

Bilbo Baggins joined them at dinner that night and gave his rendition of his adventures. Though no one made any mention of the ring it was clearly on their minds. The next day an emissary from Gondor arrived. It was the son of Denethor, Steward of Minas Tirith, The White City of the East. Though Boromir, as he was called, dined in the common area with the others, he and his men mostly kept to themselves. But unnoticed by Susan, Boromir had admired her stunning beauty several times before their actual meeting.

It was ten days after her arrival to Rivendell, he approached her. "Milady?"

She jumped slightly, having been shocked out of her chat with Estel. She found the ranger to be interesting conversation. Though he was no elf himself, she learned he knew much about their history. He reminded her of her brothers in a way. At Boromir's intrusion Estel excused himself and Boromir took his place.

"Forgive me for interrupting, milady," he said and sat down on the sunny bench next to her.

"It's quite alright. And call me Susan, please,"

He smiled in that slightly goofy way most of her suitors had when she addressed them directly. "Susan . . ." The way he said her name she knew he was already smitten. "If you don't mind me saying: Susan is such an odd name for an elven lady as beautiful as yourself."

She blushed furiously. "I'm not an elf, my lord."

He seemed truly surprised by this. "Surely you jest?"

She shook her head and briefly considered how much to tell him. "I'm human like yourself."

He laughed out loud and practically slapped his knee in surprise. "The wonders of the world . . ." he pondered openly. "How can a creature such as you have been born by mere mortals?"

Subconsciously she had her first, negative reaction to the man. The word 'creature' spoken in context with her name reminded her of a proud prince, who had courted her ages ago. "I could explain it to you, if you would like, Sir?" she answered coolly.

He blushed furiously, but as she predicted, took no offense. "I can truly say I have never met a woman such as yourself." he said, almost fondly.

She nodded her thanks and smoothly directed the conversation onto a safer subject. "Is it true you're heir to the throne of Gondor?"

He nodded. "Have you been?"

"No," She smiled sweetly. "I'm afraid all I've seen of Middle-Earth is this place. Though it truly is a lovely sight."

Boromir nodded. "It is a haven on earth," With a deep breath he studied their surroundings. "Though should you ever wish to visit a _real_ city, I shall gladly take you to Gondor one day."

Though she knew what he meant by 'real city' it still made her bristle. "Is Rivendell not to your liking, Sire?"

He chuckled smoothly. "Indeed it is. I only mean that a place as perfect as this could never thrive under the rule of man."

She nodded though she had not actually missed his true meaning first time around.

"If I may be so bold as to inquire how you came to be here?" he asked.

Only now did she give pause. _What to tell, how much to share?_ "It is a very long story, my lord." She had quickly realized he was oblivious to her royal title, but had relished a chance to speak informally. She had never had the chance in Narnia. But here where no one save three men and four hobbits knew of her, she found it was a brilliant way to get to know new people without pretense. The way ladies and lords, such as Boromir, treated those below themselves spoke greatly of their personalities. She realized she was predisposed to chivalry from men due to her looks, but appreciated the way Boromir spoke to her as an equal and with interest.

"We have all day, Lady Susan."

It seemed she was in a bind. Not to tell him now would generate a very negative impression. "I am not of this world."

He nodded, seemingly not surprised. "The elves mention as much, but I was not certain they were correct in their assumptions."

"And you are not alarmed?"

He actually laughed. "A thing as beautiful as you could not be anything but gracious and good."

Again she bristled slightly and suddenly remembered how he dismissed Estel upon arrival. "I once knew a woman, pure as ice, with skin as fair as mine and hair the color of grain," She was glad to find him clinging to every word. "She was responsible for the slaughter of thousands of my people and the near death of my brother."

Boromir looked mortified. Both over the tale itself and from being corrected by a woman.

"_She_ was pretty too." With that she stood and left him gaping. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, my Lord. We should continue our conversation another day." And with that, she let the skirt of her light-blue, velvet gown caress the floor in departure.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> TBC. It's gonna be a while before the action ensues, but hopefully you'll remain interested till then. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3: Gathering of the Council

**Disclaimer/Thank-you's:** Thank you to John Ronald Reuel Tolkien for writing three fabulous books and making it possible for myself and others to build upon those stories. Thank you to Clive Staples Lewis for writing seven wonderous fairytales that still enthralls, both young and old. Thank you to Electrum for one day opening a Word document and writing the first words of your inspired fanfiction universe - AND for allowing others such as myself to be tap into that well of imagination. Thank you to the makers of Packard Bell for making a laptop that can survive falling off tables, having drinks spilled over it, being slapped around and still hold on (though she is a little slow these days). THANK YOU to everyone who reads, feels, reviews - those who _have_ reviewed and those who will - those who'll read and move on and those who'll read and remember it for a long time. Thank you to my muse/personal dictator/friend/confidant/beta Jeanet Møller (pronounced 'oe' ;) ) who listened patiently to my reading aloud of this story as it was still only an idea - for allowing yourself to become as captivated by my little universe as I am - for helping me when I screwed up the timeline and for pushing me back on track when I thought this story should start and end as a one-shot.

Thank you.

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><p>Chapter 3 – Gathering of the Council<p>

It would be four days until two new delegations arrived at Rivendell. Susan had not spoken to Boromir or his men since. In fact, she found the company of Estel and the hobbits far more enjoyable. And so it happened, on the fourteenth day upon her arrival to Middle-Earth, she found herself seeking Estel and came across one she did _not_ expect.

"Pardon, my lady." The voice was deep and soothing as she nearly bowled over him.

Much to her annoyance she had gotten lost and nearly run into a tall elf. She recognized him as such immediately. His snow-white hair and cool, blue eyes gave him away. Not to mention the ears.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She quickly sidestepped with a glance back in his direction. She noticed his eyes following her as well and only longed for the company of Estel all the more. He, lord Elrond and the hobbits seemed the only ones capable of seeing past her looks.

She found the ranger perched on a terrace, watching the arrival of three dwarves. Lord Elrond had informed them of the times of their expected arrivals. "Who are they?" She stood next to the silent man and looked down below.

"The dwarves of Erebor," He glanced at Susan's smitten expression. "You may know it as The Lone Mountain?"

She smiled. "The one from Bilbo's story?"

He nodded and pointed to a red-bearded dwarf. "That one is Gimli, son of Gloin. He is of royal blood, but low in the line of procession so best not to mention his royal bloodline to him." He grinned and coaxed a giggle from her as well. It was odd how she sometimes reminded him of a woman twice the age of her appearance. Other times she acted as the bubbly young'un she should be. He knew of her story and was finding it easier and easier to believe that she was older than she looked.

As Susan gazed down at the three dwarves she was reminded of an old Narnian friend from a different life. It had been a dwarf officer of the Narnian navy, called Sull. She had sailed with the lovely lady-dwarf on many diplomatic occasions and missed her dearly. "He looks kind," she said in regards to Gimli.

Estel looked at her curiously and then back down at Gimli. The dwarf had a suspicious scowl and unkempt hair. Certainly not something a normal queen – or a lady for that matter – would deduce kindness from. He smiled at her without her noticing. There was still much to learn about this strange queen. "I cannot say. I've never met him." His voice was soft as he gazed at the young woman a moment longer before once again turning his attention to the dwarves.

Susan smiled mischievously when Estel's wistful tone filtered through her memories. "Where is Arwen today? I haven't seen her." She had noticed the interaction between the ranger and the lovely elf-lady. Their relationship was more than just friendship to Susan's trained eye. Before Estel could answer a familiar voice interrupted them.

"Aragorn! _Mellon-nin_." The elf from before suddenly stepped onto the terrace.

Estel smiled even brighter. "Legolas. _Mae govannen_." The two embraced like old friends. Legolas, who had taken notice of Susan before, was quite surprised to see her in the company of his friend. "My Lady," he greeted in his deep voice.

She nodded in greeting.

"Legolas, this is Lady Susan," Estel gestured to her, and Legolas bowed reverently. They had agreed three days prior, not to mention Susan's title until the council which was to be held this very day.

"A pleasure." he said.

Susan found herself unable to look into his eyes for any period of time. They were rather intense. Also, she had gone quite speechless, only now noticing his beauty. She felt as though she was fourteen all over again. Luckily Estel saved her.

"I believe Lord Elrond is waiting to call the council. May I accompany you there?" he asked Susan.

She agreed with a quick smile and took his arm. Together the three made their way onto the terrace where the meeting was to be held. Needless to say many were surprised to see a woman, an elf and a ranger appear together.

All but Lord Elrond it seemed. "Please. Join us."

Many of the others wondered openly about the presence of, not only the ranger, but Susan as well. In fact, she got the feeling that most disapproved of her presence there. Legolas went to sit with his kin while Susan took a seat next to Estel, across from Frodo and Gandalf. She and the hobbit shared timid smiles, though his seemed almost sad.

Lord Elrond remained standing to preside over the meeting. "Today a dark cloud has taken shape. A presence that threatens to destroy all we hold dear. The races of Middle-Earth have therefore gathered so that we might find a solution to this looming danger, in the presence of men _wiser_ than ourselves."

"And women, apparently." Gimli growled.

Susan noted he spoke in an almost Scottish accent and could hardly contain her smile. Even after his snarky remark. Elrond took the interruption in stride. "Which brings me to my next address. Lords of the council," All sat to attention, except for Frodo, that was. "This is Queen Susan the Gentle, Ruler of Narnia."

Silence descended.

Susan scanned each face carefully and noticed surprise on most of them. Again, except from Frodo, her friends – and, for some reason – Legolas. "It is an honor, my Queen." He nodded graciously with an impish smile teasing his lips apart. She realized he must have noticed something about her, if his earlier behavior was anything to go by.

"She arrived here to Rivendell more than a fortnight ago for reasons we can only guess. The reason she remains, is however quite clear," At this attention shifted from Susan to Elrond. "A prophesy was written long ago," He recited the prophesy as he had for Susan. All who had not heard it before fell silent in wonder and awe. Those who understood would now not take their eyes off Susan. Those who understood were, unfortunately, very few.

After a few, tense seconds of silence Gimli shifted and sniffed. "That means nothing to me." He had once again interrupted, but this time Lord Elrond gave the word, and the responsibility to answer, to Susan.

She stood and straightened her shoulders in ways she hadn't done since Narnia. It was strange how easy her old persona slipped back into place though it felt a little forced. For since Narnia, she had quite astutely realized that she was no longer just one person. There were now two Susan's. The one she showed to the Narnians and to Aslan - and there was Susan Pevensie. Daughter, sister and young, British woman. The queen had rarely reared her head in England or America, but now it seemed she was forced to make a hasty return. She wondered if she would ever change completely to one of these two personas. "I was crowned by Aslan, to sit at one of the four thrones of Cair Paravel as Queen Susan the Gentle, Ruler of the Southern Lands. My sister, Queen Lucy the Valiant, was crowned Ruler of the Eastern Sea. My brothers, Edmund the Just and High King Peter the Magnificent, were crowned rulers of the Western Wild and of the clear Northern Sky. Together we ruled Narnia for almost two decades."

A profound silence settled over the gathered.

She looked at the blank faces and explained that Narnia wasn't a place one could find in Middle-Earth. Again most looked surprised. She wondered what they were all thinking. If they were judging her by her appearance or how she spoke. If they believed her or found her story insane.

As she spoke, she felt insecurity weighing down her body and making her heart pound. What she had intellectually known since first leaving Narnia, she now so desperately wanted to _feel_. Once a king or queen, always a king or queen. It was hard to look into the eyes of men who had all seen more of this world than her. It was like raising the ocean, trying to speak to them as equals and pretend to expect respect. After telling her and her siblings' tale she reclaimed her seat and relished the relief that washed over her. It had been a long time since she had spoken in front of anyone and the fear of not being taken seriously was still making her skin blush.

Lord Elrond once again took over. "Frodo. Bring forth the Ring."

The attention shifted from herself to Frodo, and later Gandalf. As the council meeting progressed, Susan felt a new sort of contentment wash over her. In the bottom of her chest, her heart of hearts, so deep within her soul she could never be sure where _she_ ended and _Aslan_ began, she felt a warmth. A rumble that put her at ease and relieved some of her insecurity. Almost as if from a lion's purr. It tingled every nerve in her body, and made her smile.

Belatedly she realized she had felt it before. Always in the presence of Aslan, and always when she needed it most.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Sweet, little one here. The next one is longer. See you tomorrow (probably sooner) ;) Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4: Rediscovering Royalty

**Disclaimer:** Read previous.

**Author's Note:** I'm gonna say that every other chapter ;P

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><p>Chapter 4 – Rediscovering Royalty<p>

After the meeting was adjourned Susan went with Estel – or Aragorn, as she had learned his real name was – to get dinner. A noble Fellowship had been formed with a single purpose in mind: To aide Frodo and protect him as they made their way to Mordor. Frodo's mission – a mission he had taken upon himself when frustrations rose to a peak, and momentarily blinded all but him and Susan – was to cast the cursed ring back into Mount Doom.

The members of the Fellowship had very quickly been found, as if by some divine twist of circumstance. Gimli had given his axe, Legolas his bow, Boromir his sword and Aragorn his undying support and loyalty. Gandalf had promised to lead Frodo as far as fate would allow him. When Meriadoc, Peregrin and Samwise crashed the council the mood had lightened considerably.

Susan had noticed the little, red head of Samwise, peeking out from behind a flowerpot several times during the meeting. She had held her tongue, secretly glad to have close friends of Frodo accompany him on his quest. When Merry and Pippin had joined the Fellowship as well she had had a moment of doubt over her own involvement. She had risen from her chair and a strange sense of anticipation had fallen over the gathered. She still remembered her words and wondered if she had made the right decision.

"Though I'm not a warrior, nor a guide, I was once an archer. And though I have no bow, I swear by Aslan, the Great Lion, that you, Frodo Baggins, will have my undying allegiance and goodwill."

Pippin's face had brightened. Merry had smiled in that sad way of his. Sam's expression had softened with pure love and devotion. Frodo, however, had only seemed sad. Susan guessed it was the shock of everything happening at once. Surely he valued her assistance? As Elrond absolved the meeting he looked to Susan and presented the name of their allegiance. She had graciously accepted the name of 'fellow' despite the fact that it excluded her. Now she sat in her room while the sun slowly set behind the woods. There was a calm knock on her door, interrupting her musing. "Enter."

"Queen Susan," said a deep voice.

"Legolas," she suddenly found herself sitting a bit straighter and chasing the last remnants of doubt from her mind like a giant, batting at agitated mosquitoes. "Come in. And please, call me Susan."

He smiled and took a seat on the windowsill with her. "I suppose if we are to journey together, formal address will become cumbersome."

She chuckled. "Quite right you are, _Prince_ Legolas."

He outstretched a hand. "You know of my stature?" He seemed the elf-equivalent of surprised – which wasn't very – but quickly smiled. "Please. Legolas."

She chuckled again and returned her eyes to the world outside her windows. "As you please." After a moment of thought she remembered a query from earlier. "During the meeting, when I revealed my title. You didn't seem surprised."

His smile was mirrored that day in the sun. "There is a glow about you many would notice, but few would understand." A strange bird called for its mate somewhere in the deep forest and Legolas smiled, almost as if he could see it flying through the trees. "Perhaps especially men."

She blushed furiously and hardly dared to look in his general direction. That meant staring intently at her Spartan décor instead of looking out the window with him.

"_Human_ men, that is." he finished with a glint in his eye.

She couldn't decide if she was flattered or furious. It seemed like a game to him, whilst her feelings kept fluctuating like a swarm of starlings. Could he not see she was hanging on every word, and expression on his face? It was torture, she crossly decided. "I see." She hid her indignation and smiled warmly. The queen she had been, being pushed firmly back into place as an awkward silence fell between them.

"But there is a reason for my visit, my queen, besides infuriating you," His mischievous glint was back and she was hard-pressed not to smile and scowl concurrently.

_Beast!_ She felt her blood begin to boil – out of fury, rather than school girl infatuations – and found she didn't much mind either way. "Pray share the reason for your visit then, my Lord."

"You said you were once an archer?" His eyes lit up with a strange fire she had only ever seen in Edmund on rare occasions. Peter claimed to have seen it often during battle, when he looked into his brother's eyes. It was fiery orange and gold-bangles. Passion.

"I was," She returned her eyes to the scenery.

Legolas smiled and the fire only became more pronounced. "Would you grant me a demonstration of your prowess with a bow?"

She huffed and almost frowned at the weak show of frustration when his smile grew. "I haven't got a bow any longer."

"You can borrow mine."

She returned her eyes to his. They seemed less intimidating than she had first thought. Though reluctant to say yes, she couldn't ignore the desire to once more wield a weapon like she once had. To bend the lethal string to her will as easy as breathing. _And mother thought my hobby was sewing_. She almost laughed over the private joke. The need to hold a bow between her hands had returned after she spoke at the council. In a final, defiant roar she returned her sights to the window and made him suffer a moment longer.

The acceptance came far too quickly for her own liking. She should have waited. If nothing else, to make him squirm. But the little voice in her mind that was more than a girl, more than a queen perhaps, told her that elves probably didn't even know _how_ to squirm, and that she had wasted almost five seconds on stubbornness when she could've already been practicing. The archer in her wanted out. It was a tool. A skill. One that defined her more than she had realized in Narnia. It wasn't until she was without she discovered how hollow she felt.

Under the careful scrutiny of everyone they passed, Legolas led her down to a small archer's lane. Targets had been placed at the end on a neat row. Several had been used as well as were _being_ used. Archers stood quietly, shooting. Elves mostly and one of Boromir's men. All of them glanced her way as Susan stepped onto the lane, but none spoke. The attention was short lived when Legolas placed them in front of the last target and offered her his bow.

As she took it she felt a rush of excitement shoot through her skin. Adrenalin thinned her blood. Her breathing quickened, her muscles tensed on their own accord, and her fingers sensed even the slightest shift in sensation. Suddenly it was as if all her senses had come to life. The forest around her. The smells. Her eyes saw clearer and accurately assessed the distance to the target in the fraction of a second. _You are an archer._ It filled her very being as she grasped the bow with strong hands and notched an arrow.

The bow was white. Lighter than her old, Narnian one. _Trust me, Dear One. You __**are **__an archer._ The voice was mighty and deep, as if spoken from the bottom of a well of never-ending wisdom. She was barely aware of Legolas watching and feeling almost as excited as she. _I am The Archer. _Almost unaware of elf's presence, and _completely_ oblivious to Elrond who was watching them both from a terrace. She pulled back her arm a fraction more and released.

The arrow flew!

It sang through the air and hit the bull's eye effortlessly. She was heaving deep, quick breaths and had eyes for nothing but the target. She turned to Legolas who had already reached for another arrow and was holding it out for her. They flew from her steady and outstretched arms, one after the other. Hitting the center of the target each time with beautiful precision. After filling the center of the disc she turned without needing or wanting to contain her excitement.

"It appears you are _still_ an archer." he said, smiling.

_There was never any doubt, Dear One. _She let out a bubbling laugh and flung herself into his arms.

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><p>Unseen by both, lord Elrond had left the terrace. He entered the armory and proceeded to the left where an old elf was situated. He sat in a lone pavilion, surrounded by sticks, blocks and slabs of wood. The smell of pine was prevalent in the air and brought an immediate sense of calm to any who entered. Lord Elrond greeted the fair-haired elf seriously. "I require a weapon fit for royalty."<p>

The elf perked up, always loving a challenge.

"A bow made for a queen."

He nodded and set to finding the exact piece of wood he would use. He knew of which queen lord Elrond spoke and suddenly knew why he had held onto a sacred stump for near three hundred years. To better understand the actions of this elf, I should mention he had once had a dream. One night, very long ago, he dreamt of a mighty lion, resting under the very tree in which lady Luthien was once held prisoner.

"It should be light and flexible," Elrond continued. "But strong. First and foremost, strong."

The lion had climbed the tree and freed the lady. "When does my Lord need it?" The day after his dream, he had ventured out to carve a piece of that same tree. He had kept it all these years, never knowing or understanding why. He knew every curve of the piece of wood, and now felt as if a life-long dream was about to be realized. This would be his masterpiece.

"You have two weeks."

The elf nodded and was about to begin immediately when Elrond stopped him.

"Take the greatest care with this one. Treat it as you would a child."

The elf smiled in a way that made him seem age-old and very wise. "All my weapons are my children, my Lord, but this one will be the most precious, the most beautiful, and the very last one I will ever create." He nodded seriously and promised Elrond a bow within a week.

Wearing a pleased smile, Elrond made his way to the dining area.

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><p>Time dragged on and the days became slightly cooler. One afternoon, more than a month after Susan's arrival, she asked Elrond when the Fellowship would depart. He and Gandalf sat, talking quietly in elfish when she walked in. He smiled kindly and informed her, the wait was not long now. As soon as they passed midwinter and the days became warmer, the Fellowship would depart. "But it's hardly fall!" Susan argued.<p>

Lord Elrond only smiled patiently and said: "Do not let the mild weather fool you, Queen Susan." Appealing to her inherent, royal nature. "Mid-winter is but three weeks away."

That left her quite speechless. She wondered if it had to do with their geographical location or something else? As she left lord Elrond and Gandalf to their own devices, the lord looked over at a chuckling Gandalf. "The young ones are always so impatient," he said in a crackling voice. Lord Elrond laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly.

When she asked Aragorn later that evening he said that a blessing lay upon Rivendell. A blessing that kept the harshest bite of winter's teeth at bay. She didn't know what to make of the warm weather and was secretly more disposed to believing her own logic. _Really, a blessing_. That sounded almost ridiculous. There had to be a natural reason for the mildness of the seasons here.

As the weeks passed she slowly learned to accept her place there. The days were spent preparing for the departure of the Fellowship. For Legolas and Strider it meant practicing their skills with sword and bow. Occasionally Boromir and Gimli would join, but they usually they kept to themselves – or in Gimli's case – as close to Gandalf he could get without smothering him. It made the old wizard irritable, which in turn made Merry and Pippin giggle – and Susan by extension.

The preparations varied, however. Those who were accustomed to long journeys on foot practiced their weaponry to ward off doldrums. For Susan and the hobbits 'practice' meant long hikes. They were given a guide and sent out for days at a time. Susan found herself hard-pressed not to lose her temper every trip. Especially after one specific event.

_A bird call trilled through the tall crowns. All four hikers, not including their elf-guide Fëanor, looked around in silent wonder. It was such a lovely forest, Susan thought._

_"Ahh, Lady Susan!" Pippin cried out. "Listen closely and look up,"_

_She stopped and did as told._

_Pippin stopped beside her and pointed. "There you see a dwarf-sparrow. Beautiful mating call and a wing span of only an inch," The little hobbit held out his index and thumb to indicate the length._

"_Try two inches. That's no dwarf-sparrow, you nitwit." Sam grumbled behind him. "That's a king-sparrow tha' is."_

"_I think I knoo a dwarf-sparrow when I see one," Pippin countered loftily._

_Merry huffed. "You wouldn't know what a sparrow looked like if it shat on your head."_

"_Oi!" Pippin cried indignantly._

_Having had quite enough practice in ignoring nuisances, Fëanor simply kept his eyes on the ground and kept walking. "Here is the crossing," he declared. It was a log, strewn across a shallow creek, but the elf scaled it without a hint of trouble. He was starting to realize why __**he**__ had been given the honor – or order_ – _to accompany the hobbits on their little outings. The little folk were almost worse than his nephews. And that was saying a lot for an elf._

_He waited for Susan on the other side with a light smile when she looked down at the creek hesitantly. "It will be alright, milady."_

_She smiled at him and stepped onto the log with her hand ready to grasp his._

_The queen was a sheer joy to be around, unlike the hobbits, Fëanor thought. Even for a human she was remarkably graceful. His opinion about her grace was about to take a serious blow, however. The moment she reached the center of the log, she slipped on the mossy surface. It just so happened that the drop to the creek's surface was just long enough that she couldn't simply let go and drop onto one of the banks. Just short enough that lowering a rope would have seemed ridiculous. Fëanor sprang into action, but saw to his horror that the ginger-hobbit had beaten him to it._

"_I'm comin', Lady Susan! Hang on!" Pippin ran light-footed onto the log and reached down to try and pull her up. Despite her lean figure, the lady far outweighed the little hobbit. Even if said hobbit had proclaimed himself to be the strongest in the Shire. And so, with a crunch, the log gave out, but not before the little hobbit managed to lunge back onto the bank. The fall was quite short and the river quite slow. When the cheeky hobbit – before this incident Susan had privately referred to Pippin as 'chivalrous' – decided to join Susan on the log in an attempt to rescue her, the log snapped in two. She tumbled into the muddy river with a great squeal and a splash._

_After, and whilst, aiding Susan, Pippin and Fëanor were mortified. Sam and Merry were angry with Pippin, and Frodo appeared to be holding in a great guffaw._

_Susan gained a great chink in her dignity that day, but was relatively unharmed save a few bumps and bruises. And the mud that splattered in her eye. The thick, dark-brown mud that had also splattered all over her hiking suit. Needless to say, Fëanor demanded that they turn about and head back to Rivendell immediately. It was already two days away. _

_Despite her weariness she slept rather poorly that night. Her clothes had stiffened as had the exposed parts of her body. Mainly her face, neck and hair – despite a half-hearted attempt to clean up before supper – were persistently filthy._

_Fëanor had remained steadfast and tried his best to treat her with extreme consideration. But despite his chivalry, her mood had become glum – as it would with any of us had **we** been dunked into muddy waters. They had arrived back at Rivendell late the next afternoon with closed faces._

All the others were ever told of the story, were Susan's harsh refusals of Pippin's additional help.

"I'm really sorry, Lady Susan!" The little hobbit had kept apologizing right into the House of Elrond - who was coincidentally waiting for them along with Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir. They had been planning the easiest route to Mordor when Susan stomped indignantly onto the white marble floors.

"Pippin, I'm _fine_!"

"I'm sorry! _Really_!"

"Pip," Merry had interjected, but was ignored.

"I didn't _knoo _the bridge would break-"

"It was a log. And I'm _fine_!" Susan had stormed past their stunned audience with a heated glance Aragorn's way. It was, after all, _his_ idea for them to go hiking. As she had stormed off, Fëanor had approached lord Elrond cautiously.

"I miss my nephews," was all he would say on the subject, before he had retreated to a quiet corner to ponder his misfortunes.

Aragorn, Elrond and Gandalf all knew about the horrible cousins of Fëanor and shared smiles when Pippin uttered these next words: "Should I not have helped her then?" before being dragged off by Merry. It had earned the ginger-hobbit a smack on his head by his best friend, a scowl from Sam and a giggle from Frodo.

Following the event, Susan still took two more trips with the hobbits, but was always careful to let Pippin cross the rivers first.

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><p>Two months had now passed since her arrival to Middle-Earth, and she had more than regained her talent for archery. Under Legolas' watchful eye she had even improved slightly. Not that there was much room for it. On the eve of their departure all members of the Fellowship were invited to dine together in a special pavilion. Susan was still trying to come to terms with the fact that it would be a long time before she saw any of her siblings again. She hoped she would one day get used to missing each of them and hoped one day to even learn to ignore the loss completely. In the meantime she tried to focus on the preparations for their quest.<p>

As the feast wore on, the lovely meal was consumed, and wine replaced the water glasses, the mood lightened considerably. Aragorn laughed at one of Pippin's many jokes. Susan realized it was the first time she had heard him laugh so openly. He had a wonderful laugh much like Edmund. And like Edmund she felt he didn't laugh nearly enough. At the end of the meal the doors burst open and Lord Elrond entered.

"My friends!" He opened his arms. "I rejoice to announce that all preparations have been made. All but one," Here he held up a finger. "One in our company is still without weapon."

All members of the Fellowship looked from one another.

"But by tonight that will be mended." Here he held out a hand for someone behind him. Another elf handed him a beautiful quiver, containing arrows and a bow. Dark-brown leather had been embroidered on the quiver with various motifs of men and animals. "Queen Susan,"

Here poor Susan felt her heart stop. Lord Elrond held out a hand for her to join him. "This bow was made solely for you from a piece of Hírilorn, The Tree of the Lady. It is strong and light. Trust in it and it will always serve you."

At the familiar words Susan was hard pressed not to cry. Her hands shook as she accepted the quiver. She was so engulfed in gratitude over the present she could see nothing else. Not lord Elrond's gentle smile or the smiles of the men behind her - smiles that mirrored her own. She pulled out the bow in a smooth movement and studied it appreciatively. It was truly remarkable handiwork. Much like the quiver, it was decorated. Carvings filled the dark wood. On the grip, more dark leather had been inlaid. She smiled brighter than she had in years. "Thank you!" She lunged forward and trapped Elrond in a fierce hug.

It surprised the great elf-lord so much that it took him a few seconds to recover.

"Well done," Gandalf praised the regal elf.

"Splendid!" Boromir clapped.

"Can I see it?" Pippin asked.

At this, lord Elrond held up a hand to silence them all. "Not until our Lady loosens her first arrow." All clapped since all were quite intoxicated.

"In _here_?" Susan asked in a high-pitched voice.

Elrond nodded and the far end doors opened to reveal a balcony. "Choose your target!"

In the distance Susan could see a line of lanterns, set up for this very purpose. She glanced back and he nodded again. With only a second's hesitation, she swung the quiver onto her back and pulled the bow from it in a smooth movement. She plucked an arrow, aimed for the first lantern and fired. She did this three times in succession and hit her mark every time. A roar erupted from the table and caused her smile to widen into dazzling brilliance.

"Gentlemen!" Elrond said. "I give you Queen Susan. Lady of the Arrow!"

"Well done, indeed," Gandalf muttered in between the shouts of revelry, almost as if nursing a much deeper understanding than any of the others. Even Elrond himself.

"Looks like the elf has some competition," Gimli muttered almost proudly, with a sly glance at Legolas.

Susan was still smiling widely when she reclaimed her seat next to Pippin and Frodo. Both were smiling and laughing with her as if they were all old friends. When she looked around the smiling faces, she suddenly felt a rush of loneliness. She tried to bury it, but found she couldn't. These men, no matter how lovely, were _not_ her family.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Told you I couldn't wait.


	5. Chapter 5: The Journey Begins

**Disclaimer:** Susan belongs to Lewis. Everything you recognize as Middle-Earth-like in apperance and description belongs to Tolkien. And lastly the bit about dwarf burials wasn't my own invention either. It's something Elecktrum thought of and I just borrowed.

**AN:** To all: Thank you for reading and thank you to those who review. To The Cretin: I imagined it almost as a long-bow - or something resembling it. It looks more like the ones used in Middle-Earth, only slenderer and made of dark wood. And the quiver is square and flat rather than dome-shaped like her Narnian one was. And about your idea: Lay it on me. If it's spoilery then send me a PM. ;)

And with that...

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><p>Chapter 5 – The Journey Begins<p>

As they stepped beyond the edges of Rivendell, the Fellowship came to a parting in the roads – if one could call them 'roads'. "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?" Frodo asked with his back to the group.

"Hmm? Left." Gandalf answered distractedly.

Unseen by the old wizard and the young hobbit, the remaining eight shared amused smiles with one another. This was the last moment of pure bliss the Fellowship would ever share together. Soon the roads would part and each would embark on their own adventure. Not that it mattered. The Now was all there was. Future came later.

The forest ended in an array of sweeping hills which ebbed up into giant mountains. A chain, stretching as far as the horizon allowed both north and south. Making their way across the rough terrain in the mountain valleys was vastly different from the soft padding of the forests around Rivendell, as Susan quickly discovered. And though no one hurried one another there was still the underlying sense that time was of the essence. But through hardship it seemed as if they were all equal. Even the frustrating silence Gandalf often exuded seemed weakened by the constant movement.

One midday they stopped to rest and eat. Boromir and the two hobbits, Sam and Pippin found themselves with excess energy. They talked the future steward of Gondor into giving them more sword lessons. They had received a few before their departure from Rivendell, but still felt somewhat stunted by their relatively, small sizes. Boromir gladly showed them a few progressed defensive moves they could easily do with their small swords. Susan sat back with Frodo and Merry and giggled as a match unfolded before her eyes.

Aragorn noticed her attention to the swordplay and offered his assistance should she ever wish to learn sword fighting. When she shyly told him she had had a few lessons in Narnia, but never quite got the hang of it, he graciously smiled and borrowed Gandalf's sword. He gave his own, which was lighter than that of the wizard, to Susan. "Take a defensive pose,"

Susan complied to the best of her knowledge. She had never cared much for sword fighting, or any fighting in general. It was not for naught she was named the Gentle, after all.

"Very good," Aragorn paced observantly around her in a small circle. "You have excellent balance and a calm grip."

"Years of archery practice taught me as much." She smiled.

He grinned and came to stand in front of her. "Very good, but might I suggest something more befitting?"

Before she could make a snarky return about women and warrior queens, he interrupted.

"You take a high guard. Like this," He raised his sword with both hands over his head and drew a deep breath. On the exhale he swung the sword down in perfect arcs. One to the right and one to the left. "By far the more practical position."

She nodded and decided to ignore his misconceptions of her limitations. She mirrored his stance and imitated his movements. _It's all this walking that's making me cranky._

"Good." He swung down and she blocked rapidly. He swung down, but aimed the blow at her other side. She blocked again with little effort. "Very good. I see no flaws in your posture or balance. Why would you not think yourself adept for sword fighting?"

She smiled and returned the sword to Aragorn, having had enough of swords already. "I like to take time and find my mark. Suppose it's difficult for me to act out violently, even in self-defense. That alone makes me an unfit candidate." She smiled and took her seat next to Frodo, who offered her a plate. Merry had taken Sam's place in the match against Boromir and the three were happily jousting away. Aragorn seated himself next to her.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Susan. You're not afraid of the bow,"

His question held a slight undertone. One she recognized as one of Edmund's old tricks. He always used them when he wanted to trick information out of people. "It's easier to take a life when you don't feel the blood splatter over your hands. Also I have the option to aim for non lethal shots with my bow that I don't in the heat of the moment with a sword." Aragorn nodded, but she still felt she had to explain. She turned to him and lowered her voice slightly. "It's not only because I lack the reflexes to sword fight properly," She saw she held his attention and suddenly felt suffocated. "Also because I'm not really certain my life is worth more than theirs." She looked back at Merry and Pippin.

Aragorn stared at her a moment as if the secrets of life were held there. Then he nodded and once more took a stand. "I believe I understand you, Susan,"

She glanced at him and returned his nod when she felt the tension lift. With a smile she look down and returned to her food. During their conversation Boromir had jabbed Pippin in the arm with his sword. The two hobbits had then attacked and forced him, chuckling, to the ground. Susan couldn't contain her giggles over their antics. All seemed calm, even the sky had gone a soothing shade of blue that morning, until suddenly one of the Fellowship called for attention.

"Oi! What's that?"

She looked to see most of them already studying the southern sky with interest.

"It's nothing," Gimli dismissed. "Just a whiff of cloud."

It did indeed appear that a cloud was moving rapidly towards them, blotting out the brilliant blue. But with a shocking inhale she recognized it as a phenomenon she had only ever heard stories of. It was not a cloud, but a flock of birds moving as one. _Black Sun!_

"Crebain. From Dunland" Legolas declared and suddenly all was a flurry of panic and haste.

"Kill the flames!"

"Hide!"

Susan was tugged under a shrub along with Gimli and Sam as the birds passed overhead. Their squawks and shrieks made it no secret that these were not ordinary birds. As quickly as they had descended, they passed, leaving behind a deafening silence.

"The Southern pass is being watched."

"Saruman's spies," Gandalf hissed and spat on a rock. She wondered what had happened between the two wizards to cause such a hostile reaction from him. "We head for the pass of Caradhras!" He called out authoritatively.

"Are you mad!" Gimli howled. "We'll freeze to death," He lumbered over to where Gandalf was studying the tips of the mountains eastward. "Why not go _under_ the mountain?" Gimli's voice rumbled like a roaring fire. Full of desire and heat.

"I fear the Mines of Moria might prove too great a challenge for even me," Gandalf mumbled and the dwarf seemed to not understand. "No. We must go over." he declared in a voice that brooked no argument.

Gimli's face lost a bit of color and his posture somehow sunk in on itself. He seemed to recognize something in the wizard's voice that signaled defeat to the red dwarf. Suddenly he went uncharacteristically silent and nodded. Susan had heard tales of Moria and knew Gimli had family there. She could certainly understand the need for one's family. She had never missed her own more.

"Pack up!" Aragorn called. "We head out immediately."

All moved with haste. Susan quickly gathered her things, almost forgetting her bow and feeling dreadfully embarrassed by it. She was placed in the center of the group along with Frodo and Boromir. The higher they climbed, the colder it became. At the beginning Merry and Pippin started a snowball fight, but soon tired. Eventually Boromir had to walk behind them just to ensure they didn't fall behind. Susan had noticed the somber look in Frodo's eyes and saw how he was heaving deep breaths. He seemed wearier than any of the Fellowship and she worried her bottom lip all through the climb. At one point during the trek Frodo had fallen and stumbled all the way down to Aragorn.

Suddenly a panicked look had passed over the hobbit's face as he searched around his neck. Aragorn helped him to stand and looked to Boromir who was holding the ring. Susan felt a surge go through her chest as if from electricity. Boromir seemed entranced by the small ring as he studied it in wonder. "It's a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. . . Such a little thing."

"Boromir! Give the ring to Frodo." Aragorn called.

Susan had similar looks to that in Boromir's eyes many times before. She had seen it in humans when they saw the treasures of Narnia. In men when they saw herself and Lucy atop gilded thrones. It was a look of pure greed. "Boromir?" she quietly called and unconsciously took a step back. There was an air of lunacy about him just then.

But as if it was only a fleeting shadow, he suddenly huffed and made his way down to Frodo. "Take it. I care not." He patted him on the head as if praising a child and hiked back up to Susan. To her he chuckled, but not like before with Merry and Pippin. This was a strange, mad sound, accompanied by the look in his eye as he passed her. It made goosebumps erupt all over her body to think of the last time she had seen such a look. Rabadash once again entered her mind, unbidden. _"Sister, he plans to keep you as his slave should you refuse his marriage proposal!"_ her brother's voice echoed through her mind. She remembered her reaction then and unconsciously moved a hand back towards her bow. Never again would she be fooled by men who batted their lashes and spun hollow praises.

As the moment had started, so did it _not_ pass. As though it had begun as a lightning from a cloudless sky, it would take far longer for its last remnants to finally seep out. Though Boromir again took his place next to Merry and Pippin all remained hesitant to start up a conversation or release their caution. The two hobbits, who had so far been bright lights in the ever nearing darkness, now lost all signs of merriment on their faces. Susan glanced down to Frodo and caught sight of Aragorn removing a hand from his sword. He caught her eye and shook his head. She sighed and let her arm settle once again by her flank.

The more they climbed the quieter they became, it seemed. The snow deepened and the cold air stung their lungs. Even the remaining cautiousness around Boromir was forgotten in favor of focusing on walking. When the snow became too deep for the hobbits to climb, all four were picked up. Merry and Pippin by Boromir, Sam and Frodo by Aragorn. Susan shot an envious look at Legolas, who was climbing on top of the snow as light-footed as a kitten. She wondered if perhaps the journey would have been better left solely in the hands of elves. Certainly it would've been easier. She kicked past another blob of snow and cursed the cold a seventh time.

Suddenly an unnatural chill ripped through her clothes, like a sting in her bones. It felt familiar. Evil. Like a witch's winter.

"There's a foul voice in the air!" was all Legolas could shout before the sky rebelled and the mountain fell on their heads. As the earthen rumbles stilled and the shock made way for the cold to register, Susan felt very near complete exhaustion. She wasn't above begging for someone to _do something_ if it meant getting off this blasted rock.

Luckily she didn't have to. Gandalf's voice cut into her silent criticizing. "-et the ring bearer decide!" _What was Frodo deciding?_ She turned to look at the hobbit and saw the conflicting emotions on his face. He listened very carefully to the old wizard, she had noticed. He took everything Gandalf said very seriously, as well he should.

"We go through the mines!" he shouted against the gale winds.

Susan could have cried in relief just then, as could most of the others. Bear in mind – Gandalf had warned them, yes, but weariness and cold has a tendency to chase away any and all precautions from one's mind.

"Yes! Finally!" Gimli wasn't above expressing his deep dislike for the mountain. And so on, he continued until his berating comments on Caradhras turned to praises of Moria. "There you'll find all of heart's desires. Have you ever sat deep underground, in front of a roaring fire that reflects the crystals in cavern walls like stars?"

Susan shook her head with a smile. She had met many dwarves, but none as cheerful about spending a week under ground, as Gimli.

"It is the home nearest to my heart." he rumbled happily.

"Do you miss your family?" she asked when an old story of Edmund's returned to her.

"Oh, dearly. But don't tell 'em I said that!"

She giggled and caught Aragorn smiling as well. He was once again bringing up the rear with Susan and Gimli in front of him. "May I ask you something, Gimli?" She wondered about the story Ed had told after a Fell-raid in the early years of their reign.

"Certainly, my queen," It should here be mentioned that the term '_my queen_' was not one any from Middle-Earth should have used, but had been started by Legolas and had spread through the Fellowship as a term of endearment. Even if she wasn't their_ queen_ she was still _theirs_ and a queen.

"I've known a lot of dwarves through my years in Narnia,"

He nodded for her to continue.

"I've known many who died, as well," She paused again and hesitantly pushed forward. "The only one in my family, or anyone I've heard of not a dwarf, to ever assist in the burial of another dwarf, is my brother Edmund. He told me of the rituals involved, but neglected to mention their purpose."

Gimli hummed to himself. "Go on, lass."

"Well. He said that all dwarves were buried with their faces down,"

He hummed for her to continue, but gave a little "Oh," when he realized that was her question. "Well you wouldn't turn your back on your own mother when she tried to hug you, now would you?" He eyed her sternly and hummed in satisfaction when she shook her head. "We're buried with our faces down to greet the mother that created us all. _That_ is why we do it."

"Why is it so secret?"

Gimli rumbled deep in his throat. "If your brother was invited to join-"

"He participated."

"Oh . . ." Gimli suddenly looked at her in a whole new way. "If that's true, your brother would've been someone greatly loved and respected by the dwarves. Especially with him havin' the unfortunate fate of not _being_ a dwarf himself."

Susan smiled. "He had a way with dwarves that none of _us_ ever did."

Gimli nodded pensively. He hoped to meet the siblings of Susan the Archer before his journey ended. He glanced back up at her. "But yes, that tradition exists here as well."

"Fascinating." She gazed at the dwarf and blushed when he began to fidget.

"_I_ have never heard of that tradition, Gimli." Aragorn joined in softly.

"It's not well known among outsiders," He scowled at both Susan and Aragorn. "And if you wouldn't mind keepin' it to yerselves, I'd be very happy."

They both nodded reverently. Then Susan wondered out loud. "It's odd how traditions in Narnia could prevail here as well," Both men looked at her. "Well some, anyway, seeing as you don't celebrate Christmas."

Aragorn smiled, having heard Susan's story of Christmas before, but Gimli frowned and repeated the word thoughtfully to himself. Susan giggled when she heard him whisper the word and continue on in silence. Silence fell again when they had to climb some inconvenient rocks. The snow had melted and was replaced by black rock. Occasionally bushes or shrubs would peek out between boulders. One lone tree here and there. A dusty cloud cover blocked their view of the stars and the moon. It was in fact so dark that they almost missed the entrance to Moria when they reached it. The entrance was not, as she had imagined, a giant gate open to welcome all travelers. "We come upon the gates very shortly." Gandalf muttered at the front. "If we can find them, that is."

"Why doesn't he think we'll find them?" She glanced at Aragorn before looking at Gimli. "I'd imagine they're quite hard not to notice."

"Ahh," Gimli said with an air of pride. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed."

"Yes, Gimli, even their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten," Gandalf grumbled at the front.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Legolas asked with a crooked smile at Gimli and next Susan. She smiled back.

They reached the gates of Moria just as the full moon rose to zenith. The clouds parted and luminescent symbols sparkled to life in the darkness. Gandalf tapped the gate and spoke something in a foreign tongue. Nothing happened.

"Hmm, that's strange," he said to himself. His hand went to caress the long beard.

The group all relaxed as they recognized the signs of a long wait. It didn't much bother Susan though. She wanted desperately to lie down and rest, if only for a little while. She found a spot along the mountain wall and sat back. She wrapped her elven cape around her shoulders and pulled her knees up. Sleep came later than usual, but after Aragorn told Merry and Pippin to stop throwing rocks into the lake, the company relaxed a bit more. The ginger- and blond hobbit sat down and went to sleep. Susan as well, with a dozing Sam on one side and a watchful Legolas on the other. She already felt her eyes begin to close when a few whispered words from the elf sank into her unconsciousness.

"Sleep, Susan . . ."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I sometimes catch myself pulling a Mary Sue out of my ass when I'm not paying attention. In this chapter I had that feeling during Susan and Aragorn's talk. Whilst trying to rectify the blunder, I realized it would have taken something from the chapter so I toned it down instead. I analyzed my way out of it and realized it was because I was spending WAAAAYYYY too much time in the Susan mind-meld. That problem has been solved by not writing on this story every waking our :) I apologize if I removed my own Susan too far from the canon-Susan. It happens most notably with her and Edmund, I must admit. Problem will be adressed ;)

I hope it didn't bother those who felt it too much. And to those who didn't notice at all = *blows kisses*

**10 minutes later...**

Dudes, I just checked out the online definition of Mary Sue's and something called the Mary Sue Litmus Test. I feel a little happier now that I've seen the intro to the test. The writer states that "Sue-ness is relative. :)" and honestly, who am I to disagree?


	6. Chapter 6: Peter's Arrival

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my bones.

**AN:** To Clyne: I hear what you're saying and I'm pleased to announce that your wish WILL come true ;) To The Cretin: I'm sad to dissappoint you, but Susan will NOT be battling the big nasties, but she'll get to do all other sorts of really cool shit - There's a reason I gave her a longbow you see. A reason you'll get to read in about ten chapters' time. I had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine a while ago, and she asked me which weapons I would give the Pevensies if they had to be up-to-date. I said I'd give Lucy a pair of revolvers with silencers, Edmund a bazooka, Susan a sniper-rifle and Peter a Desert Eagle. That's pretty much the reason for the longbow. Susan seems the type to consider her targets before she fires. That way of thinking would fit her. And again, thanks for reading and reviewing. You make it fun to write.

**AN2: **This is an experiment. To all who think you know how this story is going to progress, I'm delighted to inform you that you're wrong. Even if you think you've got it figured out, trust me: You don't. I wouldn't have written this story if I didn't have something orignal to offer. Read my other stories if you don't believe me :) And onward we move...

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><p>Chapter 6 – Peter's Arrival<p>

He awoke in a forest. The air around him was sweet and mild. The last he remembered was a train moving towards him and his siblings before everything turned very, very bright. He sat up with a jerk. _Where are they?_ "Ed? Lucy!" Nothing but silence answered him. The forest was quiet, almost eerily so. "Edmund?"

He stood up and looked around. Every part of him was tingling. He remembered the feeling from previous trips to Narnia. It was like being sucked through a very small needle and being spread thin all at once. "Edmund!" His rough shout made him stop instantly. Something had moved. His hand moved to his hip in vain. He found no sword there. In fact, as he glanced down he saw was still in his old British clothes.

"Who are you?" A tall man with white hair peered calmly at him. He had an arrow pointed squarely at Peter's heart.

The young man looked at his surroundings, suspecting that more were near. Probably with weapons pointed at him as well. "I'm High King Peter the Magnificent."

The stranger tilted his head at him with a confused expression. "I am not familiar with that title,"

Peter shook off the slight unease and forged forward to gain more information. "And what's _your_ name?"

"I am Haldir." The man nodded quickly. "The chief of Archers here in Lothlorien."

It was Peter's turn to frown. "Where's Lothlorien?" He took a step forward, forgetting briefly that he was unarmed and still unrecognized.

Haldir frowned at him again. "In Middle-Earth, High King."

There was hardly any reverence when Haldir spoke his title, and Peter became even more confused. Not so much because he expected reverence from his subjects, but because he had always received it none the less. "Why am I here?" He looked around and made an effort to loosen his posture and show he was no threat. Haldir seemed trustworthy despite the lethal weapon he was brandishing.

"I do not know, your majesty." He lowered his aim, but still kept the arrow strung.

Peter waved a hand distractedly at him. "Please. Call me Peter." If this man wasn't a subject of his, and furthermore in a position to threaten him, he preferred not to have his title strewn up and about at the end of every sentence. "So this _isn't_ Narnia?"

"I do not know of any _Narnia_." Haldir answered politely and lowered the arrow completely.

This made Peter's face pale.

"Are you well, Peter?" Haldir asked and loosened the arrow from his bow. He seemed almost concerned.

"I'm . . ." Peter looked around. "I don't recognize _any_ of this."

Haldir seemed sympathetic to his plight and put away the bow completely. He raised a hand in the air above him and stepped closer. Peter eyed the gesture suspiciously. "I was signaling my men." Haldir explained.

Peter nodded and allowed himself to sag with a deep exhale. All of a sudden he felt light headed. "Those waiting in the shadows to shoot me?" He leaned his hands on his knees and drew deep breaths.

Haldir nodded, smiling, and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Come, friend. You seem weary."

Peter was surprised to see such trust within seconds of meeting a stranger. It was along time since he had experienced such familiarity. He nodded, but held a hand out to stop them when a thought struck him. "I was with my two siblings before I came here. Have you seen them?" His large, hopeful eyes were now full of concern.

Haldir sadly shook his head. "I have seen none but you, Peter." He saw the sadness in the young man easily. Haldir had always found humans interesting. Ever since the summers Estel spent in Lothlorien, humans – especially young ones – had held a special place in his heart. "I will take you to see my Lady. Perhaps she can explain things to you," He hated to see children cry. Elflings and humans alike. And though Peter was neither entirely a child, nor crying, there were elements of both in his stature. He was young in years, but seemed older and more worn than any human Haldir had ever seen. And though he was brave, he seemed crushed with worry, confusion and fear of the situation.

And of course, being the wise being he was, Haldir understood perfectly. He, himself had siblings he loved more than anything. A younger brother and sister both served as archers in his very unit. He understood the levels of pain siblings could cause, just as he understood how much more joy they could bestow as well. "It is your first time here." He needn't ask.

Peter nodded and followed when Haldir guided them about.

"This is my home," He gestured upwards and watched the young man fall silent in awe.

"You live in the _trees_?" His voice was a near whisper.

Haldir smiled. "Yes, my friend. It is as close to perfection as can be obtained."

Peter soon discovered he had to agree when they climbed the steps towards a giant tree crown. Men like Haldir stopped what they were doing to stare at the two, but no one approached them. The higher they climbed the sweeter the air became. There was still warmth and twice as much light. "This is your home?" His wide eyes tried in vain to take in everything.

They reached a terrace high above the ground. Peter didn't dare get too close to the edge. Haldir smiled and bade Peter sit. "Please. Relax. I will bring you something to eat." He waited politely for Peter's acceptance before he left.

_This truly is something, Aslan_. He looked around with a touch of melancholy in his eyes. "But it's not home. Is it?"

At that very moment Haldir returned with a small bowl and a loaf of bread. It looked like far too little to sustain him, but manners forbade him to ask for more. He ate quietly and found to his surprise that the soup filled him quite easily and that the bread didn't leave his mouth dry. After a drink of water and a few words with Haldir, he was escorted to another deck. "My Lady wishes to speak with you. She hopes you accept?"

He nodded. He had learned, during his reign that it was not often about following orders, but how those orders were delivered. It was _how_ you asked your subjects that mattered most in the end. He smiled, liking the lady a little more already. "What's her name?" he asked Haldir as they ascended a winding stair, noting that the years of inhaling British smog had damaged his physical fitness more than he first suspected.

"Galadriel," His voice was filled with awe and brought a sense of calm to all who heard it. Had Peter seen his face it would only have been confirmed twice over.

On their way up Peter made the mistake of looking down and almost tripped. Haldir was there to offer a hand in support. He smirked and continued on. They arrived to a small platform, overlooking the western part of the forest. "I will wait here with you. My Lady will arrive shortly." Haldir said and took a relaxed position. "Please. Relax."

Peter obeyed the advice and stood, relishing a long look at his surroundings. _Why did you bring me __**here **__of all places?_ He suddenly felt that Haldir needed to at least clarify what was happening on a larger scale. If he was to gain any insight at all into his sudden departure from home, he'd need answers. "Haldir?"

The elf-lord noticed the nature of the young man's voice and patiently smiled.

"If you don't mind me asking," Haldir waited. "You're not human, are you?" Peter felt pretty sure that none of these forest-dwellers were. Perhaps dryads of some kind?

"No, Peter. I am not. I am of the elven race."

"And _elf_?" Peter arched a brow. Remember, he had the same notion of elves as his sister Susan when she first arrived to Middle-Earth. _Short and bearded indeed_.

Haldir nodded, seemingly not fazed. "All those who live here are of my race."

Peter nodded. _So I'm in an elf-city. But why?_ "Haldir, is there . . ." Here he paused. For how to give his thoughts voice without giving offense? "Would there be some special _reason_ for my arrival?"

"That is a question best asked to Lady Galadriel, Peter." He smiled when the high king deflated a little. "But be calm. She _will_ answer all your questions," Peter smiled, but deflated again at Haldir's next words. "Only perhaps not in the sense you expect."

He sighed and returned his eyes to the western view. Unnoticed by himself, his forehead folded in worried lines at the thought of his siblings, but a small noise from Haldir brought his attention back to the present. The view he saw next was enough to take his breath away. Descending from a delicate stair, surrounded by an aura of sparkling light, was a woman. Fair-haired and more beautiful than any Peter had ever seen. He bowed quite unconsciously, but found it hard to lower his eyes from hers. "My Lady." His voice was one of awe.

Graceful as a cat, she stepped closer and offered him her hand. "Peter Pevensie." _You have been expected_.

He stopped in uncertainty as her voice reverberated through his mind, but didn't fear. "My Lady?" _How is this possible?_ He wanted to formulate his thoughts better, but suddenly found it all rather overwhelming.

She smiled and cupped a gentle hand to his cheek. "You already know the answer to that question." Her eyes drifted to her right and Peter's followed. He saw that Haldir had left them. "Please. Sit with me," She gestured to a small bench just large enough for both of them. "There is a question on your mind. One that precedes all others."

"Do you know where my siblings are?"

"I do not know their exact location, but I can tell you all are still unharmed,"

He let out a relieved breath.

"And one is on her way."

At this, Peter perked up. "Lucy's coming _here_?"

Galadriel shook her head. "One named Queen Susan the Gentle fell into Rivendell a little over two and a half months ago. She, and those who travel with her, will arrive on the morrow."

"Susan's here . . ." He suddenly felt quite confused. "But I thought. . ." He stared into nothingness as he tried to clear his mind.

"What do you remember of your old world, Peter?"

He returned his eyes to hers. "A train station,"

Though she seemed quite a bit confused as to what a train station was, she seemed to know something deeper. "What happened there?"

Peter stared into space and tried to remember the best he could. "I'm not sure," A shiver rippled through him.

"Shh," Galadriel suddenly felt a stab of concern for the young man and set aside her regal air for a moment. "Be calm. You will all know in due time. I believe something greater is guiding you,"

"Aslan?"

"I know not of that name."

"He's the Great Lion of Narnia. The creator of our kingdom."

Galadriel nodded. "Though I doubt any Middle-Earthmen will recognize that name, I believe he has another here. Eru."

The way she said it, with the amount of reverence, Peter instantly knew they were one and the same. "Yes." He looked into her eyes with a newfound sense of hope. "Eru," He tried the name. It was very pure and beautiful, but he still much preferred Aslan.

Galadriel smiled. "The Fellowship will arrive, as will your sister, by midday tomorrow. You will see her soon."

"What happened to her?"

"I cannot tell you her fate. She alone can tell you."

Peter nodded. He was used to these kinds of hurdles from Aslan. _I can only tell you your own story, Peter_. "What about Ed and Lucy?"

Galadriel's face saddened to a degree that almost stopped his heart. "They will have to overcome many obstacles to be reunited with you and your sister."

Peter felt his hands quiver. _Were they hurt?_

Galadriel saddened even further. "I can only tell you to hasten. When the Fellowship arrives, you must only spend as much time here as you absolutely need." She sensed Peter's worry as clearly as she sensed her own. So she took his hands in hers and looked deep into his eyes. "I will present you with a gift, Peter Pevensie, king of kings. One which will give you temperance and help you ease the suffering of others."

And to him she sang a song in Elvish. It was a song of light and hope. One that had, centuries before, been blessed by Galadriel herself.

"_A Elbereth Gilthoniel_

_silivren penna míriel_

_o menel aglar elenath!_

_Na-chaered palan-díriel_

_o galadhremmin ennorath,_

_Fanuilos le linnathon_

_nef aear, sí nef aearon_." The last note hung in the air before it dwindled into the wind.

"It's beautiful," He gazed into her eyes with a sense of longing for home.

"Sing it with me,"

"But I don't speak the language."

Galadriel smiled. "It does not matter." _Say the words and the understanding will come._

I didn't make much sense to him, but he tried his best. Together they repeated the song three more times. Each time making Peter's eyes drop more and more, till they eventually became too heavy to ignore.

"Rest now, High King Peter," Galadriel caressed the side of his face and helped him to stand. "All will be explained tomorrow."

He blinked as she removed her hand and another grabbed his shoulder. "Come, friend." Haldir requested and turned him away from Galadriel. He had appeared out of nowhere and quite silently. "You will speak again tomorrow," he said as his lady drifted away to someplace Peter could only imagine. Higher into the crown.

He followed reluctantly at first, but quickly realized just how tired he was. His feet began to drag as Haldir was leading him down the steps. "You will sleep on the summer deck." He could see that Peter was so tired he could barely hold himself high. Though this man looked around twenty years old, he was still a child in most of the ways that mattered. He needed his sleep. They reached the landing and Haldir carefully set him down. "Stay. I will bring covers." He nodded and left.

Peter settled with a deep sigh. Galadriel reminded him of someone. The song replayed in his mind. It was hard to forget despite not knowing the words. The intonation and the sense of peace it brought were not so easily dismissed. Haldir returned and gave him the covers. He was sleeping on the ground, but didn't much mind. It felt quite soft.

"Rest. I will wake you tomorrow."

_Tomorrow. . .My sister comes tomorrow_. She would arrive and bring a sense of logic and composure to it all. Together they would find Edmund and Lucy and do whatever Aslan intended for them to do. As long as Susan got here, all would be well. He smiled and curled deeper into the covers. He wondered if he'd even need them. The deck was quite warm despite being open to the elements. _Perhaps they expect an ice storm- Jadis!_ His eyes shot open and he spent a few seconds in silent conflict. Galadriel reminded him of Jadis. But it wasn't _her_. They were quite different, that much he saw already. Despite his sudden epiphany, his eyes again began to fall closed. He _would_ sleep, whether he wanted to or not.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Kay, so now we start introducing more characters. I'm excited to see what you think of the next chapter. Though I might not update tomorrow, there will be another update on monday at the latest. Enjoy the weekend *waves and logs out*


	7. Chapter 7: The First Reunion

**Disclaimer:** Thank you Lewis and Tolkien for writing books that allowed me to write this chapter :)

**AN:** This chapter probably doesn't start where you were expecting it to start. Be warned. Thank you readers! You're all awesome!

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><p>Chapter 7 – The First Reunion<p>

He was still falling. She could see Gandalf turn his back on the black abyss just as a flaming whip reached out of the darkness and wrapped around his ankle. _"We need to keep moving."_ Aragorn had said. He was quite right. Orcs would have descended upon them had they stayed, but she hated what he was asking. He was asking for them to bury their sorrow. To save it for later. Something Susan had never been much good at. When she was sad, she cried. When she was happy, she laughed. It was her nature. Much like a desert was she. If it rained all came to life for a brief moment in time. If a sandstorm hit, all one could do was ride it out.

Ever since that fatal fall, they had been on the move. Even the hobbits walked steadfast as ever and Susan would not lower herself to complain. But why would Aslan let something like that happen? She found tears falling despite her self-imposed stability. She _had_ to remain strong. She brusquely wiped her face and hoped no one noticed. She had to remain calm in the face of tragedy. She knew that. So why was it so hard to do?

She found herself missing her brothers and sister more and more. If Peter were there he would know what to do. He would hold her and whisper gibberish in her ear just to distract her from the sorrow. But he _wasn't_ there. None of them were. She looked around at her group. All of them were beyond tired and would soon collapse if they continued without rest. She addressed her concerns to Aragorn.

He answered with, "It won't be long now till we reach the forests of Lothlorien, Susan. There we'll rest."

It was a promise she intended to hold him to. She had asked why that forest was so important. What they were hoping to find there. His answer had been short and vague.

"Peace."

After that, silence fell again. Even Merry and Pippin were too exhausted to speak. They just stumbled alongside Boromir with Frodo and Sam on their heels. Sam still missed Bill the Pony and Susan thought the loss of Gandalf would only add to that. Instead he seemed to gain strength from it. He was the one who whispered little words of encouragement to Frodo when the young hobbit seemed so close to breaking. Susan closed her eyes whenever his voice drifted to her, and imagined Peter or Edmund. Even Lucy too sometimes. Her little sister had on more than one occasion been a voice of strength and faith.

Two days after the fall, she was done. Not having slept or grieved, Susan had reached her breaking point. So when they reached the edges of Lothlorien and Gimli began spreading rumors to the hobbits she found it next to impossible not to yell.

"They say a great sorceress live in these woods. An elf witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell . . . and are never seen again."

"Really?" Pippin asked.

"Watch your very breaths, my hobbits. Though, you should not fear, for there is _one_ dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox-"

He stopped inches from an arrow pointed at his face. Susan and Legolas drew their bows and notched arrows on reflex.

A condescending elvish voice broke the silence. "The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark."

She hadn't really believed Gimli's nonsense about a witch living in the wood, but there seemed to be some truth to it as she stared into the faces of a dozen armed elves. "State your business." one of them called.

"Peace," Aragorn stepped forward and silently asked the Fellowship to lower their weapons. "We come to speak with Galadriel. We have urgent news from Lord Elrond."

The leader of the elven group studied the others carefully before ordering his soldiers to stand down. "Are you the Fellows of Rivendell?"

Aragorn nodded.

The elf lowered his weapon. "We have heard of your arrival. Do not fear. You have safe passage." he stepped aside to allow them passage. "I am Haldir and will lead you to our queen."

"Whatever you do, don't look her in the eye-" Gimli continued, but Susan finally had enough.

"Gimli, quiet!" Her bark was enough to draw surprised glances from her travel companions, as well as elves, but she chose to ignore it. "Honestly!" Instead she put one foot in front of the other and tried to keep her vision from blurring. In her haste she forcefully pushed an archer out of her way without even fully registering it. She had been prepared for traveling on foot, but not for _two-day_ travel on foot _without_ rest. This had never been part of their agreement and she was already now, envisioning a complaint when she found the right person to do it to. There would be tears, she vowed.

"Fret not, dwarf. Elves hold true to their word." Haldir said with an easy smile and a weary, but intrigued glance at Susan. There was a disgruntled growl from Gimli, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Haldir reminded Susan of Legolas and immediately brought her irritation to a new level. _No more of these self-righteous, pompous, self-absorbed-_

"Behold, Lothlorien!" Haldir announced proudly and gestured upwards.

Susan stood in shock. _This is unexpected_. Giant trees rose like silver lances, burrowed into the ground. Crowns shadowed most of the harsh sunlight. But the most spectacular sights were the winding stairs, weaving their way around each of the larger stems. She didn't exhale until Boromir suddenly spoke.

"Magnificent,"

It truly was.

"Come. Follow me. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn wish to speak with you all." Haldir led them up the winding stairs without delay. It was beautiful. As they climbed Susan noticed that some trees were shorter than the giants, one of which they were scaling. But the shorter trees allowed for a partial view over the western forest, the direction they had traversed, and beyond that – the mountains of Hithaeglir. She shuddered as she thought of Moria, but was forced from her reverie by a small hand on her back. "Susan," It was Frodo's soft voice and she could do nothing but smile.

It was far from her glorious, regal smiles, but it was enough. He smiled as well. They continued to a deck, located high above the ground. All were still in their travel clothes and Susan had half an idea they smelled all the way to high heaven. But she didn't much care then. She didn't care much about anything at that moment. As they waited, Aragorn leaned close to her. "Are you well, Susan?"

She smiled, feeling quite neglected since Gandalf's death, and relishing Aragorn's concern. "I just need to sleep. That's all."

He nodded, but didn't share her smile.

"Lady Galadriel. Queen of Lothlorien."

Out came a stunning woman. Long, blond hair and an ethereal glow about her. Susan could understand why the chamberlain had presented her with such admiration. She truly was a sight. And beyond that, even. She seemed to carry an innate sense of calm with her. One Susan could already feel the effects of. She was swaying gently on her feet and grabbed a corner of Aragorn's tunic to stay the worst of it. She didn't need any more attention drawn to her because she couldn't even stand straight. If he noticed, he gave nothing away.

"Ten were there who set out from Rivendell, but I see only nine." Galadriel's voice was deep and resounding. Like a large brass drum.

"Tell me, where is Gandalf?" Lord Celeborn asked.

"He has fallen into shadow," Galadriel answered for them, with a penetrating look at Aragorn. "and flame." Her face showed the sorrow of his death just as theirs did. Her whisper made Susan's skin crawl. Not entirely unpleasant, but more like the crescendo of a piece of classical music. It tickled the air around the nine companions in a way that made it so very easy to forget their troubles. And if not for her next words, Susan could quite easily have fallen asleep standing.

"You bring great danger with you," Galadriel looked at Frodo, who looked about ready to crawl under a rock. "The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true." There she looked straight at Boromir, almost daring him or anyone in the Fellowship to speak up.

But Susan hadn't taken her eyes from Frodo. She could understand his reluctance to be singled out, as she wanted nothing more than to be bypassed as well. Unfortunately, her time in Rivendell had prepared her to be singled out quite effortlessly by the peoples of Middle-Earth.

_Do not be so quick to hide behind the men around you. You are meant for more than this, Susan Pevensie_.

Galadriel's deep voice boomed through her mind, somehow _making_ her understand. _Forcing_ her to see. A new need arose. She wasn't done. There was more walking ahead and more adventures to be had. A sense of curiosity filled her. One she dearly hoped would persevere after they left Lothlorien. "You did not come here for ill news, so I will not burden you with them. Here there is only peace and you will find only that." She looked at each member, taking her time to gaze into their eyes. Ending with Aragorn.

"The journey is still very long. There will be many trials for you all to overcome. In the spirit of hope, I give you a new member. A shoulder to help carry the burden." She was staring straight at Susan for some reason. "He awaits you where you will rest." She bowed and stepped back. Celeborn followed.

All were feeling enthralled and ready to pass out from exhaustion. All except Legolas who had very little need for sleep, if any. "Follow me." Haldir spoke and beckoned them closer. He led them down the same stairs they had just climbed, till they reached a lower deck. One with a clean view of the setting sun. Susan was second to step onto the deck after Aragorn and stopped in shock when she did.

Aragorn had already spotted their new companion. "Hello. You must be our new Fellow-"

"Peter?" Susan could feel the blood pumping through her body as her smile widened.

Peter's face undertook a similar transformation. It changed from surprise to shock to joy in less than a second. "Su!"

"Peter!"

Both jumped forward and crashed into a hug. Peter was laughing and Susan was trying to contain her overwhelming, and quite conflicting, emotions. "What a-are you _doing_ here?" She could feel tears running down her cheeks.

"Shh, later." was all he said as he suddenly stilled his movements. In long, soothing strokes, he ran one hand over her head and the other in circles on her back. "We'll talk later." He saw his sister's violent emotional upheaval the second they embraced. He knew she was tired. Galadriel had explained the length of their journey to him. _How_ tired, he did not realize until he had her in his arms. By then he also realized that she had no idea why he was there, which probably meant she had no idea why _she_ was there. In any case, it could all wait. His sister was with him. That was all that mattered. "Shh . . ." he repeated calmly and hugged her closer. "It's alright."

And only then did Susan let sorrow claim her. The tears she had yet to shed for Gandalf fell like a wave. Her brother was finally _there_! She was home and together they would find Lu and Ed and finally be able to rest. But for now, he was _there_ and that was all that mattered.

The Fellowship watched their young queen cry in the arms of her brother. Each trying to remain silent, not wishing to disturb the tender moment. But pass it did. Her emotions swelled before dulling like a tidal wave. She was spent. No words were spoken as the entirety of the Fellowship settled in for the night. No words, that is, besides the mourning songs of the elves. "It is a lament to Gandalf," Legolas explained with his shallow, blue eyes on the tree tops.

"What are they saying?" Merry asked. No one spoke, but all were listening.

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near."

Susan sighed and settled in next to her brother. His strong arm around her shoulder grounded her. "Is this real?" she whispered into the falling night.

Peter gently lowered his chin to her head and tugged her closer. "Define 'real'." he answered.

She huffed, knowing what he was doing. He was, unconsciously reciting an argument he had once had with Edmund at the beginning of their reign._ "This can't be real. We can't be kings and queens. We're children!"_ Simultaneously asking her to trust in Aslan. "I think I know why he sent us here." she whispered and tilted her head against his chest. His exhales on her crown were almost too much for her to bear.

"Please tell me 'cause I can't seem to find the answer on my own." He was slowly becoming more and more relaxed.

"Lord Elrond told me about a prophecy," She leaned back to look him in the eye. "I think it relates to us. All four of us."

Peter sighed and smoothed her hair down once again. "I hope the little ones are alright."

"Me too," Susan sighed and wrapped both arms around his torso. "_This_ is real, Peter." She gave him a shake to emphasize her point.

He nodded, but didn't speak after that. They both fell asleep within minutes. Unseen by both, Legolas kept watch over the Fellowship with Aragorn. Right until the ranger fell asleep and beyond. Even in the womb of Lothlorien Legolas still felt he needed to keep watch. Better safe than sorry.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> *squii* The next one takes us in an unexpected direction! Tell me what you think? Are the events leading up to the action, too long? Too many of them? Ramble, rant, yell, praise - whatever tickles your fancy - just do it in a review ;)


	8. Chapter 8: Arrivals at Westfold

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**Author's Note:** I woke up this morning to a whopping 25 reviews on my little *so far* story ;P Do you all know how precious you are? And just 'cause you are, here's another chapter for ya'll :D

And a couple VERY embarrassing mistakes were brought to my attention. Thank you Anonymous. You don't have to hide. It's alright, I won't yell ;) Thanks.

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><p>Chapter 8 – Arrivals at Westfold<p>

Edmund frowned and groaned. It was a rough landing. He felt like something heavy had crashed into him. His hands were fisted in tall grass and a smell of horse manure saturated the air. _Am I in Narnia?_ The air was as fresh as the one he remembered from his homeland.

"Edm'nd?" Lucy's tired voice reached his ears and sent all gears spinning. If Lucy was there, that meant Peter probably was too. They could figure everything out together.

He looked over and found her in a position similar to his. "Right here, Lu." He reached out and grabbed her little fist in his.

"What happened?" She sat and looked around. "Where's Peter?"

Edmund rose and pulled his sister to her feet with him. "I don't know. What do you remember?" He kept his eyes on their surroundings. A fair distance away was a little village from what he could see. But no alarms had been raised so they probably hadn't been spotted yet.

Lucy gently touched a little bump on her head. "The train. It was heading for us when everything went bright."

"Yeah, I remember that part too." Edmund looked around at the view. Rolling hills for miles and mountains in the distance. "I don't think we're in Narnia." He voiced his thoughts just as the alarm within the town sounded. The alarm was little more than a woman screaming. Her scream was accompanied by a cacophony of noise. Just then Edmund spotted the source of the upheaval. "Definitely not Narnia." A strange, fell-like creature scurried from one home to the other. More followed him.

"What _are_ those things?" Lucy asked with fear creeping into her voice. She was having severe trouble thinking. As she looked down, she found the reason. She had landed on a rock and bashed her head.

"We have to help them."

"Ed, I think I have a concuss-"

Edmund were two steps away when Lucy's voice filtered through and he reared back. He framed her face in his hands and looked at her closely. Her right pupil was blown and a small blood clot had already gathered around the bump. "Stay here. Hide. I have to help them." He turned away from her and began jogging through the tall grass. He was still in his British clothes, torn and dirtied after a night of breaking into Professor Kirke's old townhouse to fetch a pair of very special rings. _The rings!_ They were still in his pocket!

"Edmund!"

"Lucy, stay here!" he shouted back as he was running.

She thought about obeying, but more screams filled the air and a sense of dread filled _her_. What if Edmund was killed because she wasn't there to look after him? She took off. Running almost a dozen yards behind her brother, far enough back that he didn't notice her upon thundering into the village. "Edmund!" she cried out among the screams and drew the attention of a foul creature.

It tipped its head before it snarled. It drooled.

Lucy shrieked and turned to run. But her dainty, English shoes slipped in the mud and sent her sprawling. She rolled to face her opponent just as it descended upon her with a crude axe. A second before it could cleave her head in two, a rusty sword intercepted. The crooked clang brought her temporarily back to her senses.

"Lucy! Move!" It was Edmund's voice so she obeyed without question. She rolled out of his way as he swung the borrowed sword up and around, dislodging the axe from the creature's hands. Then with a wide swing, took its head clean off. He turned and grabbed her hand.

Lucy could still hear men, women and children crying. "What about the others?" she cried as Edmund pulled her away. Her head was throbbing.

"There's too many of them!" He looked back and the damage that was easily being caused by the fearsome creatures.

Lucy stumbled along and dared a look back as well. She saw three more creatures like the first, taking up pursuit. "They're following!"

Edmund practically pulled her along as he headed for the only shelter around for miles. A small copse of trees, standing guard on a sweeping hill. With the added momentum of their speed he swung her in front of him and stood guard before her.

"Edmund, what the bloody hell _are_ they?" Her voice was nearing full blown panic. Remember, she and Edmund had only just been brought to Middle-Earth, seconds after a dreadful event in England. On top, Lucy had a rather pounding headache and a feeling of dread she couldn't shake. She was Valiant, but not without fear.

"I don't know!" Edmund blocked a swing from a fell-creature's sword and almost fell back. Though sloppy in their style, the blows were powered by large muscles and rage. He fell into a rhythm often used in Narnia when he was younger. He crouched low to the ground, making himself a smaller and much more annoying target. Pivoting on the tip of his right foot, he brought up the sword in a spinning pirouette and sliced into the chest of the foul creature. It howled and fell. A lateral cut split the murky skin between the sixth and seventh rib and exposed soft, fleshy guts. Though it wasn't enough to kill it, Edmund knew it was at least neutralized for the moment. He could deal with it later.

The second attacked Edmund while the third tried to circle him to get to Lucy. "The wench's not worth much. How long you reckon _she'll_ last in Orthanc?" it sneered at its partner in passing.

Edmund was filled to the brim with rage. Whatever these creatures were, whatever Orthanc was, they were obviously being rounded up to serve as slaves. He had never liked the idea of slaves and _never_ those who kept them. He cut the second attacker off with a swing at its head. It moved easily, but didn't move its legs fast enough. Edmund and followed the swing with a swift kick. The creature dropped and the third one attacked.

Having seen its partners fall, and recognizing Edmund as the most immediate threat, the third attacker doubled back. Edmund crouched low and swung out again and again with his sword. Always aiming for the legs and feet. The creature dodged with a sickly laugh each time, but Edmund reeled in his anger. He packed the raw rage away and allowed it to simmer deep in his chest as he had done so many times before. Full clown anger made him careless. Simmering fury made him reckless _and_ determined.

He had barely forced through the creature's weak attempt at sword fighting when he heard Lucy cry out. He stopped dead and turned. The second creature had slipped behind him and gone after her. It now held a filthy knife to her throat, smiling and licking its lips. Even more fury bubbled up from his gut and he almost threw caution to the wind. _How dare it!_ His lips parted in a sneer and he took a half-step forward, but stopped.

"Ah-ahh. . ." It wriggled a finger at him. "Not so _farst_, little human."

_So they recognize humans when they see them?_

"Not unless you want this pretty, little thing riddled with scars." It grinned and he almost ignored the warning.

_I can take it_. It was slow, compared to the one Edmund had just fought. Bigger too, but that had never been a hindrance as much as an opportunity for originality in Edmund's mind. Just as he was about to move, one of the others gained its feet and growled.

"Drop the sword." the one by Lucy ordered. It gave her a little shake and made her whimper. That headache of hers would be murder tomorrow. _If we live that long_, he thought grimly.

Edmund looked at his sister with wide eyes. He was asking her permission to continue. The mental image of his impromptu battleground was vividly splayed out in his head. He knew that the first creature to attack was still on the ground, whimpering and slowly bleeding to death. He knew that one of them was directly behind him, pointing a weapon at his back. That it would use that weapon any chance it got. Apparently Edmund had convinced it not to attack even though his back was turned. He had always been impressive with a weapon. This was no exception. It would lunge the second he dropped his sword.

But he also knew that he could give Lucy a fighting chance if he got the one on her, _off_. He hoped with all his might that she could still read him as well as she could in Narnia. If he could just get the rings to her and get her out of here, everything would be alright. At least for a little while.

She paled when she understood what her brother was asking and wordlessly shook her head. _He_ might have been willing to give his life for her, but she would die before ever forcing any of her siblings to do so.

"Drop it." the thing repeated. "Like a good, little boy." It drew the rusted blade over Lucy's skin and drew a thin line of blood.

Edmund bit down as hard as he could on his bottom lip. This wasn't going to end well. His sister was asking that he not give his life for her. Adrenalin was making his hands tremble and for the first time in thirty-three years he found himself not liking that rush. Not coupled with the decision he was about to make. As he reluctantly unclenched his hands, he heard a triumphant chuckle from behind.

The next thing he knew, all went black.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Oooooh... So there it is. I've introduced the last of the Pevensies. Seriously considering uploading the next one as well just 'cause I'm in the zone. Hope it was to your liking?


	9. Chapter 9: In the Presence of Orcs

**Disclaimer:** C'mon now...

**AN:** Just 'cause :P

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><p>Chapter 9 – In the Presence of Orcs<p>

Lucy cried out when one of the creatures knocked her brother over the head. But she didn't dare struggle when that same creature chained her hands and then his. Two lines of rope were stretched out from each set of irons and they were pulled, Edmund was very literally dragged, back to the town. They were light-weight chains, as far as Lucy could tell. Iron manacles, fixed with coarse wires and wooden clasps. Designed to hold people transported on foot without having to carry the extra weight. She recognized them as vaguely similar to Calormen ones. Only, these were filthy and covered in a tar-like substance. Much cruder made as well.

"Get those two back with the rest!" the leader of the creatures ordered.

Lucy was pushed down next to a group of women. She very quietly asked the woman next to her, what their captors _were_. "Orcs." came the quiet, toxic reply.

"Put the boy with the rest of the men!" the leader then added.

Lucy shouted and struggled, but earned a slap across the face and chafed wrists for her trouble. The strike made her ears ring, but she had to do it. She feared Edmund would be dragged across the ground without mercy if she didn't. It seemed as if they were setting out for a long walk and she couldn't bear the thought of her brother's body being dragged over the unyielding earth. She felt a keen sting of tears until she noticed the two men that picked him off the ground. She nodded her thanks and the youngest smiled back. He was about Peter's age. Tall with chestnut colored hair and very dark eyes.

"Move!" the orc-leader cried and cracked a whip. "Rathil, you and your bastards take the next town and bring the spoils back with you!" It seemed his voice was pitched in a constant yell. "That should put you about five days behind us. If you're late, you answer to Saruman!" Roars and cheers erupted, whilst the orc identified as Rathil, looked on the verge of fleeing for the hills.

Lucy leaned forward to the same woman as before. "Who's Saruman?"

The woman flinched and shook her head fiercely. The whip cracked uncomfortably close by Lucy's ear and deterred her from asking any more questions.

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><p>Later in the day, Edmund awoke to yet another curious sensation. His best guess was that he was being carried. He couldn't for the life of him remember why, but vaguely remembered the sound of train whistle and thinking he was in Narnia, only to realize he was not. There was no way this was his beloved country. The rocking motion brought a rolling bout of nausea up his esophagus so violent he almost heaved then and there.<p>

Then, blessed-be-whoever-watched-over-him, a rough voice called for a stop. "Five minutes, you scum!" He recognized the pitch. It was a bellow from someone who had long ago accepted that he would only ever feel pain for as long as he lived and had become angry as a result. He understood that position more than he cared to remember. It was also the voice of the creatures that had attacked him and his sister.

Then he was gently lowered onto the ground, but even the careful movements couldn't stop the instant reaction. He gagged and heaved. Some of it splattered on his fingers, but he didn't have the energy to care. Why was he being dragged somewhere without so much as an explanation?

"Easy," a young voice soothed. A warm hand was on his back.

_Time to open those eyes, Pevensie_, his brother's soft voice echoed eerily through his mind. _Peter!_ Peter wasn't there, but Lucy had been! His eyes snapped open and took in a partially green field. Splotches of yellow lingered. Possibly it was nearing summer? "Where am I?" he croaked like an old man.

The hand rubbed a circle on his back. "You're in Rohan, friend. But not for long."

Edmund looked up at the young man above him. An older man was seated next to them. "How's he doin', son?" The older man kneeled awkwardly.

The younger one looked to Edmund for the answer. Ed nodded and wiped his mouth after wiping his hands in the grass. "I've been better."

"Your friend is over there," the old one said and pointed left. Just a few meters away Edmund saw Lucy watching him with wide eyes. Why did she not just come over? Then he took his first good look at his hands. They were shackled. So was Lucy's. It all returned in brilliant waves of pain a color. Their arrival. The fight. Lucy pleading with him silently not to sacrifice himself for her. Although now, with his brain desperately trying to escape its confines, he wished he had. Death would almost be better than this. He reckoned he didn't quite have a concussion, but was damn close.

"Lucy. . ." He whispered it into the air, but she seemed to hear him. She nodded and smiled sadly. Tears were running down her cheeks. That made Edmund's heart drop. There was nothing worse in the whole wide world than seeing his younger sister cry. He gave a quick smile to let her know things were not all bad. They were still alive and still together. She understood and gave a watery smile back.

"What's her name?" the young one asked. He glanced back at Edmund when said man frowned. "I-I'm Essir and this is my father Esodhal." He gestured to the older man by his side.

"Edmund. And that's my sister Lucy." His eyes returned to hers again with a deep sense of longing. Why did trouble always follow him?

Essir nodded. "We tried to ask for water, but the orcs don't carry any,"

"Are those things the _orcs_?" Edmund tested the new word and found it quite fitting. The harsh voice had belonged to an _orc_. Very fitting indeed.

Essir nodded.

"Why don't they carry water?" he then asked as that fact settled with him.

"They don't drink it."

Esodhal's voice made goosebumps travel down his spine. "What do they drink instead?" _Please, Eddy, are you sure you really want to know that?_ Peter's voice again.

"They drink blood," Essir shot a venomous look at the backs of one of the orcs.

"Bloody hell," Edmund whispered into the air. He was studying the orc closest to him, sizing him up. "They're not that big. And you far outnumber them. Why don't you fight?" He was careful to keep the blame out of his voice. The most important thing was to gain information. Any personal feelings could be set aside for later. But he would've fought.

"They're heavily armed and none here are fighters."

"But I saw you fighting in the town. I took a sword off a dead man." Edmund continued. He hoped he hadn't said too much already when Esodhal's eyes darkened.

"Only those with the right age and of strong physical fortitude are accepted into the Rohirrim."

"I assume that's some kind of army?"

Esodhal nodded. "Yes. But none of those sons are here any longer."

"Why not?" Edmund had hoped for some kind of strategic advantage. It seemed he had found it.

"The king has shunned his son and nephew. The Rohirrim roam the plains of Rohan. Cut off from Edoras."

"That's the capital?" Edmund guessed.

Esodhal nodded. "There were only farmers, traders and breeders in our town." he said sadly. "Those who _could_ fight don't even know our village was overrun. And even if they did, this is only one of many."

"This is happening other places as well," It was only a half question. "Has it been like this for long?"

Essir was ripping up grass with his fingers. Esodhal answered. "No. Not long. Only since the king took ill. A few months or so. But they are becoming more frequent. Those villages still untouched are in increasing danger of being taken with every passing day."

Edmund nodded. It seemed that Aslan had put them in the midst of a war. A war in a new world. So technically they were not yet back in Narnia. _Not yet, Eddy_. He had the strangest sensation that this was only one stop along a very long journey. That this world, Middle-Earth, was only a piece of an ever-expanding puzzle. _Layers upon layers, my son_. The faint memory of Aslan's voice brought some warmth back into him and he found a well of new energy.

With a last look towards Lucy, they stood and once again started walking. The going was slow with so many people dragging their feet, but still only took little more than a day and a half. By nightfall the next day they saw a yellow glow rising from the ground. Edmund, who had tried to strike up a conversation with Esodhal and Essir a couple times, had learned they were heading for someplace called Isengard and that it was run by someone named Saruman.

"That name nearly _screams_ villain, doesn't it?" His smart remark had earned him a blow from one of their whips. Lucy had screamed and kicked up a storm, which had nearly resulted in her being whipped as well. Only profuse groveling on Edmund's part had spared her. He had tried to keep his comments to himself after that. No reason to worry Lu. It was bad enough he was getting himself into trouble. Hell would freeze over before he let his sister be punished for his crimes.

As they were being herded into Isengard, or Orthanc as the orcs called it, Edmund had the strangest sense of worry. Not over their situation, but of something else. Plucking up his courage and stomping down his anger, he had meekly asked an orc why they were there. He could see furnaces far below ground level. Creatures were working in them, but no humans. "Why did you bring us here?" He looked to Gothmog, as he learned the leader of their captors was called.

Gothmog smiled and made the sickly feeling prickle much more profoundly. "You're snacks for the little ones and labor until then." As he said 'little ones' Gothmog pointed to a creature being dug from the ground. It looked like the orcs, only larger and stronger. Wider shoulders and a fiercer expression. Huge canines.

_We're food?_ Many times and in many ways had Edmund imagined his life to end. Never – not _once_ – had he thought he would be eaten. Well except that one time with the Goblin king Warfang, but Peter effectively put an end to that before it even started. Now he found himself staring at a whole new kind of terror.

He caught sight of Lucy over the crowd of fresh slaves and shuddered. He didn't dare imagine the fear someone felt as they were about to be eaten alive, and fully conscious of it. He didn't dare imagine Lucy's screams, should he fail to get her out of there. As her eyes caught his, he saw the fear very vividly. Right then and there, in the din of screams, metal hitting anvils and roaring fires, he made a vow. No matter the cost to his own health, he would save his sister. Whether she wanted to be or not.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> *Ranting to myself*

_Conscience_: Should I upload another chapter?

_Selfishness_: Hell no! Let them stew for a while! Hell, wait a week.

_Conscience_: But I really wanna upload another chapter. Didn't I mention I was on a roll?

_Selfishness_: You're giving up WAY too easily! C'mon... wait a little. You know you want to.

_Conscience_: *considers counter*...mmmmno...I really don't. *presses upload*


	10. Chapter 10: Spare Parts

**Disclaimer:** Should I even bother at this point? I think it's pretty obvious that I didn't write the Lord of the Rings or the Chronicles of Narnia.

**Author's Note:** See this is what happens when you give me too much attention! ...Not that I want you to stop :)

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><p>Chapter 10 – Spare Parts<p>

The first night in Orthanc was the worst. All slaves were freed from their tug-lines, but kept in manacles. That meant freedom to move around, but low maneuverability. Lucy immediately found her brother and folded herself to his side. Steady tears fell from her eyes, but no sound escaped her. He roped his bound arms around her shoulders and allowed himself to offer solace the only way he could. They sat down together. "Shh, it'll be alright, Lucy." He knew she needed comfort, which was usually Peter's forté. But in his absence Edmund had always been good at picking up the slack.

"How?" It was a whisper and very quickly lost in the midst of all the noise.

He didn't have an honest answer to give her. They shuffled their feet as five orcs herded the large group of humans into a steel cage with no roof. At least that meant they could still see the stars. _If the smoke clears_, Edmund's sardonic mind cut in. "Lucy, have I ever lied to you?" He didn't dare mention the dozen times before they arrived to Narnia. Instead he smirked the confident way he always did, and settled them as far back in a corner as he could. Esodhal had found his wife and youngest daughter and huddled close to his family next to them.

Lucy silently shook her head against her brother's chest.

"I promise I'll find a way out of here. But you have to trust me, Sister. Can you do that?" He kept his voice steady and allowed for some of the resolution to bleed out.

Lucy turned her wide, bloodshot eyes to his. "It's when you talk like that I get worried."

Next to them Esodhal's family couldn't help but overhear, but were gracious enough to pretend not to. Edmund flashed her one of his secret smirks. The ones he saved for solving complicated diplomatic situations and for sharing inside jokes with his siblings and friends. He pulled her sister as close as she could get without physically sitting on his lap.

"You'll do something stupid and get yourself killed." Lucy, bless her, saw right through him and knew him well enough to practically _hear_ his thoughts.

"No I won't." Edmund answered quietly and placed his chin on her head.

"Yes you will! I've seen you do it time and time again." Lucy glanced around when she had accidentally yelled, but to her relief no one besides Esodhal and his family noticed.

"We'll if I've done it before there should be little need to worry, My Queen." He thought a second he had won the argument.

"Yes but all those times were in _Narnia_," Lucy took a dramatic pause, knowing she had found a hole in his speech and hoping to persuade him of her gravity. "Can you think of one thing I had with me all those times that I don't have now?"

Edmund's face fell, but he refused to let it show. "I won't need your cordial-"

"You always did before." She was sounding far too smug for his liking.

"I did not. Name _one_ time."

"That time with Warfang on the North-Western Boarder,"

"Those were special circumstance. Peter was about to be killed. What was I supposed do to? Plus it was in the middle of battle. Wounds were to be expected."

"Or what about Beruna?"

"Same thing!"

"Or in Lantern Waste?"

"That was _not_ my fault. That minotaur clearly had a personal vendetta against me."

"Or that time in Anvard?"

"Now that was an accident and I apologized profusely to the dwarf after you healed me."

Lucy knew he was trying to coerce a giggle from her, but didn't rise to the bait. "You scared the living daylights out of that little fellow. It wasn't even likely that kitten would've been hit with the wheels so far apart and honestly, I could have just given _it_ a drop should it have happened."

"And I should've passed on a chance to rescue a loyal subject?" Edmund huffed incredulously. "You're getting sloppy on me, old girl."

_That_ made Lucy giggle.

Edmund smiled into her soft hair. "I think we'll have stars tonight." His eyes traveled upwards, not really thinking it would be possible, but hoping for his sister's sake.

"It won't matter. We don't know any of the constellations."

"It'll be a chance to learn new ones. Who can say they know constellations from not one, but three worlds?"

"And besides there's too much smoke."

"It's just steam. That'll clear once the temperature drops."

Lucy sighed. She had not missed how her brother had diverted the conversation, but chose to leave it for now. She leaned against Edmund's ribs, careful not to crush him.

"Would you like to lie down?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, moving to uncurl her growing frame, but was stopped by Edmund. He gently leaned back onto the bars and pulled Lucy onto his lap. She smiled and once again wrapped herself around his lanky frame. "Where do you suppose Peter is?"

Edmund sighed. He had wondered that himself. "Someplace safe, I hope."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And NOW I'm done! But only for today. Tomorrow you get another one :)


	11. Chapter 11: Leaving Lothlorien

**Disclaimer:** I once borrowed the books from the library. The publishing rights are someone else's.

**AN:** Some of you are probably expecting more Edmund and Lucy. :) Oh and 10 points to god for knowing the origin of the name 'Bill'.

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><p>Chapter 11 – Leaving Lothlorien<p>

After two days, the Fellowship left Lothlorien. Each was presented with parting gifts from Lady Galadriel. All were given elven cloaks and the hobbits were given daggers on top. Sam was furthermore given a length of rope and a small box, containing a silver mallorn nut and some Lothlorian soil. Frodo was given a small vial with whispered words from Galadriel. Susan was given a set of arrows, mithrill arrowheads and a silver whistle. Peter was given a sword with very little in the way of designs on pommel, handle or guard. It was a clean blade and light as a feather. Furthermore he was presented with an elvish dagger. The dagger was almost as large as the hobbits' swords, but much more ornate. Carved amber and mother of pearl decorated both hilt and scabbard. A slightly curved blade with one sharp edge and one dull gleaned dangerously in the sunlight. Galadriel promised him it would never miss its mark.

The two seemed to have formed a deep bond in the short time they had spent together. Upon presenting her gifts to him, Galadriel pressed a Queen's blessing on his forehead and whispered an elvish blessing. Susan received both as well, though she and Galadriel had never actually talked.

All were given provisions and new sleeping rolls. _Elven_ sleeping rolls. As if, Susan pondered, that somehow made them fundamentally better. Also three boats were given. Supplies to light fires and salted meats for the journey. Legolas was not given a parcel of arrowheads like Susan, for his were already of the finest quality. He was instead given a package, wrapped in the leaves of mallorn trees. When he opened it on the shore of their departure, his eyes widened with childish glee.

"Lembas!"

All looked at him curiously. "We've been eating those for two days." Gimli announced curiously. He was having severe trouble relishing any other gift but his own.

"One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man!" Legolas' joy did not seem diminished by the fact that no one shared it.

Furthermore Merry commented on it, to the great joy of all. "How many did _you_ eat?" he asked Pippin.

"Four," the insatiable hobbit answered lazily before he burped and stepped onto the first boat. Merry followed along with Legolas and Gimli. Sam, Peter and Boromir climbed into another and Susan, Aragorn and Frodo took the last.

"What did Galadriel give _you_, Gimli?" Susan asked across the two boats, once they had set out from the shore.

The dwarf sighed deeply as if the very thought was better than all the splendor in all the worlds. "I have been dealt a wound beyond all healing, Queen Susan. For the last time, I have looked upon that which was, and always will be, fairest of all. I shall never again call anything fair unless it be in reference to the gift my Lady bestowed upon me,"

Aragorn shared an amused smile with her from his end of the boat.

"What was it?" Legolas asked with a smirk, teasing his lips.

"I asked for one hair from her golden head," Gimli sighed heavenly. "She gave me three."

Susan couldn't stifle the giggle and quickly covered her mouth and averted her eyes. Aragorn either, and covered his chuckle with a cough when Gimli quickly sent him an accusing glare.

"You dare to mock my mistress?" Gimli's voice was crass and snappish and nearly brought Susan crumbling in a fit of giggles. All overheard the conversation and Susan caught Peter's eyes from the neighboring boat on the right. He was smiling in that golden way of his.

Aragorn couldn't wipe the amused smile from his face, no matter how hard the dwarf glared. "No, Gimli. I would never presume to mock such a precious gift."

The dwarf grumbled, not quite convinced, but satisfied that they weren't openly mocking him anymore. Susan, of course, believed _that_ all depended on how you defined 'openly'. Low and worry-free conversation ensued in each boat and across them. Susan's contagious giggles could sometimes be heard and each time brought a smile from all nine men. Aragorn was secretly delighted to have her with them. Her nature and approach to things was infectious.

"How long will we stay on the river?" Peter asked Boromir as the distance between the three boats grew. He had spoken very briefly with Boromir and thought he was a decent chap.

"A week, give or take. It depends on the current and the weather." Boromir sent a peaceful glance to the heavens. "As it looks, I think our fortune might hold," He sent Peter a smile and returned his focus to the ores.

Sam turned in his seat to look at the latest member of the Fellowship. "So you're really Lady Susan's brother?"

Peter nodded and smiled. He felt an odd sense of calm, being there on the river like that.

Sam rubbed his chin pensively. "How was it? I mean, being king and all."

Peter grinned. "I'm afraid the answer to the question is a bit longer than you're prepared for."

"Go ahead," Boromir smiled. "We have until nightfall."

Peter smiled. He found himself easily trusting his companions. The only one he had a slight problem with was Legolas. And the reasons for that were beyond his understanding. Perhaps it was the way he had difficulty reading the elf's intentions most of the time. "Well in the beginning of our reign, we were all very young. It was very overwhelming."

"When were you crowned?" Sam asked and turned fully in his seat.

Peter looked down pensively. "I was thirteen and Susan was twelve. My younger brother, Edmund was ten and Lucy, our youngest sister, had just turned eight." He smiled at the memory of her chubby cheeks. Those were long gone now.

"So young?" Boromir asked with a frown. "Never have I heard of monarchs to be crowned at such a young age. For how long did you rule?"

"Almost seventeen years," Peter sighed. Not a day passed when he didn't think of Narnia.

"Why _were_ you all crowned so young? Susan told us all the story of the witch, but surely there were people who were more ready for the task of ruling a kingdom?"

"Well to understand why, you should know who crowned us." Both waited curiously. "We were crowned by the Great Lion, Aslan, son of The-Emperor-Over-The-Sea." Peter's whole being filled with memories of royalty at the mere words. It really was true what the Lion had said: _Once a king or queen, always a king or queen_. He glanced over at his sister, who seemed to have rediscovered some of that long-lost royalty as well.

"Lady Susan mentioned somethin' about a lion. Why do you suppose he choose _you_?" Sam's query wasn't scornful or mocking. Nearly curious.

"To this day I still don't know. I _hardly_ felt worthy then and I'm not certain I ever will," Peter shook his head sadly. "What he gave us . . ." His eyes danced over the moving waters and he sank into a light trance. "He gave us the greatest gift of all."

"Was all well, then? After the White Witch died. Susan mentioned very little besides how it began and how it ended." Boromir said.

Peter shook his head. "There were many problems with being new monarchs. Not only because of our age, but the damage done by the witch as well. Alliances had to be made, most re-made, and new trading routes established. We had to suffocate the last of the Witch's allegeances and assert ourselves as competent rulers in the eyes of much more experienced men."

Boromir nodded. He was somewhat familiar with running a kingdom, growing up thinking he would one day follow in his father's footsteps. He looked over at Aragorn. Now, though, that fate seemed less and less likely.

Peter continued, surprisingly relishing the chance to reminisce. "So much happened in the first years of our reign. The new way of life required time to become routine." Sam nodded and unconsciously leaned a little closer. "The remaining forces and allegiances of the White Witch were the priority. Some we never quite managed to quell while others were easily put to rest."

"She mentioned struggles with giants." Boromir said breezily. He had never seen a giant and doubted they even existed in Middle-Earth.

Peter nodded. Giants were a sore subject of his. "Those problems were never entirely laid to rest during our reign. We have friendly giants in Narnia, but most of those who resided beyond our boundaries caused great troubles. It wasn't until my brother and sister's last trip to Narnia we learned that the new king had worked out a diplomatic solution." He smiled. Caspian truly was worthy of his title.

"What do you mean?" Boromir and Sam both looked at him curiously.

"Susan didn't tell you?"

Both shook their heads.

"Well after we were sent away," That still stung even after almost eight years in England. "The four of us came back once. Edmund and Lucy returned once more, beyond that." Peter wondered how much of what came next, they would understand. "See, time flows differently between Narnia and England – as I assume it does between England and Middle-Earth as well. After we were sent away, we only spent a year in England, but 1300 years passed in Narnia."

Both faces paled slightly. "She neglected to mention that," Boromir said quietly.

Peter nodded, sharing their confusion. He had never quite understood fully how to distinguish the time-difference between England and Narnia himself. "During that time, a new nation had invaded Narnia and killed most of the native Narnians. When we arrived they were on the brink of civil war."

"She spoke nothing of this," Boromir said breathlessly and almost stopped rowing.

"Well, there we met Prince Caspian and helped put him on the throne. A year later in England, Lucy and Edmund returned again. This time, only a few years had passed in Narnia." Both Sam and Boromir nodded. They seemed to be following. "There they learned that Caspian had successfully negotiated a peace-treaty with the giants." Peter smiled. "I wonder if that still holds."

"How long has it been since your brother and sister returned from Narnia?" Sam asked.

Peter scratched his head. "Almost five years," He looked up with a bright smile. "I guess Aslan thought we needed a new adventure."

"So you think your siblings are here?" Boromir asked.

Peter instantly grew distant. "I hope so."

* * *

><p>In the boat in front of Peter, Legolas, Merry, Pippin and Gimli were talking quietly. "Do you think they were sent here to save us?" Merry asked, glancing back at Peter and Susan's boats. Peter looked sad, whereas Susan looked calm and still carefree.<p>

"I believe so, yes." Legolas said. He had been rowing since they left Lothlorien, but had not yet tired.

"You believe in that prophecy then?" Gimli asked.

"As should you," Legolas said with a smile. "It was Galadriel who foresaw it nearly two hundred years ago."

That made Gimli blush.

"I wonder what they're talking about?" Merry speculated.

"Probably when we're gonna stop." Pippin interjected.

Merry sighed. "Not all of us are ruled by our stomachs, Pip." That made Pippin huff, but he didn't retaliate. He was far too relaxed to start an argument. "Makes you wonder though," Merry mused. "How many other worlds are out there?" He turned on his seat to look at his companions.

"Probably just the two they've seen." Gimli quietly answered. He was nursing alluring daydreams about distant adventures as well, but was loathe to admit it.

"It seems a fairytale," Legolas said quietly. His eyes had wandered to Susan and lingered there. "How could something as magnificent as what they describe, exist?"

"Well, maybe it's not whether it exists or not. Maybe it's the fact that it did and that we _knoo_ it did?" Pippin said in a distracted tone of voice. He yawned, completely oblivious to Merry's surprised stare.

Legolas shared a look with Gimli. What Gandalf had said was true. You could learn all there was to know about hobbits in a month, and still, after a hundred years they could surprise you. "I hope to see it one day, or something like it."

Gimli nodded. "In the world after this one, elf, none knows what awaits them. Could very well be this _great lion_ they keep talkin' about."

"Or it could be something like the Shire," Pippin muttered dreamily. He was leaning on the railing and gazing into the river.

Merry smiled and interrupted his intense stare. "Now that would be something," he agreed, sporting his own daydreams. "The Shire. It feels like ages since we left."

"I was," Pippin moped.

Legolas shared a smile with Gimli, who chuckled and pulled out his pipe. "You don't mind, do you?"

Legolas graciously bowed his head to the dwarf. "Not at all."

As lost as they were in their own daydreams, Merry and Pippin didn't even realize when Gimli lit the pipe and began smoking. The sailing went along smoothly and the sun began to sink. Forests rose on either side of the river and behind the trees, all could see distant mountains. The only sound was that of birdcalls and water chuckling. In the boat shared by Aragorn, Susan and Frodo, a peaceful silence had long ago settled. But it was becoming evident that not all was as it should be.

"Frodo? Is something wrong?" Susan asked in concern.

Frodo tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it. "It's nothing, Susan. Just a little tired."

"We'll camp for the night soon." Aragorn ensured. He was keeping calm eyes on their surroundings, as was Susan who was an archer at heart and couldn't help it. "Are you worried about your siblings?" Aragorn asked insightfully when he saw her frown for the third time. She did it when she concentrated.

"Yes." she admitted. "I imagine they've been put somewhere along our route since that was the case with Peter. He said they were together in England so they probably arrived here at the same time."

"Why did they arrive later?" Frodo asked, trying to take his mind off the small trinket around his neck.

"I don't know," Susan was now staring straight at the back of Peter's head. "I'm only now beginning to understand what happened right before my _own_ arrival to Rivendell, but I hope. . ." Peter's eyes strayed to the shore and back to hers, briefly.

"You died, didn't you?" Aragorn asked quietly.

Susan nodded. "I thought so at first, but now I'm starting to remember more of what happened."

"Was it scary?" Frodo asked with childlike innocence.

Susan shook her head. "At first no. Just a bit confusing, since I couldn't remember. But then the memories started returning to me and it became scary. Now it's more like a dream." She looked over the waters. _And what an amazing dream it is, Dear One_.

"Should you ever need to talk. . ." Aragorn said. He looked at her through big, blue eyes.

She shot him a quick smile and looked away. "I'm fine," She hoped to catch Peter's eye again, but he had turned his back. "Thank you though."

Aragorn nodded and returned his focus partially to the forests around them. "Nightfall is near. We should start looking for places to settle. Will you tell the others?"

Susan straightened and called out. "Start looking for campsites on the western bank."

"Aye!" came a few shouts and confirmations.

Fifteen minutes later they had their campsite for the night. It was a small clearing next to an irregular rock formation. The rocks looked as though they had been there for centuries. "Sam, Merry and Pippin, why don't you start a fire?" Aragorn called after they had set ashore.

The others were rolling out the sleeping rolls or scouting the area. Legolas had already disappeared into the thick forest along with Boromir. Frodo remained next to Aragorn, Susan or the hobbits at most times. She could see he felt uneasy around the others. Susan personally found it strange that all the men of the Fellowship, not including her brother, had such strong reactions to the Ring. She hadn't felt anything coming near it.

"Su, will you help me find some firewood?" Peter casually asked in passing.

"Don't go too far. Nightfall is close." Aragorn called.

"Yes, mum." Susan smartly called back. Peter didn't say anything out of politeness, but smiled at his sister's back.

Aragorn smirked as well. It seemed to Peter that Susan was picking up some of the slack for Edmund and Lucy. They were usually the smart-mouthed ones.

Susan smiled and followed her brother. Both had their weapons with them. Not that they felt unsafe, but merely as a precaution. Also if prey presented itself. Susan kept an eye out for a certain type of bird Sam had mentioned on one of their first hikes. It was supposedly delicious. Peter and she walked quietly in the darkening forest. They passed Boromir on his way back to camp.

"How does it look?" Peter asked.

"All is quiet." Boromir assured. To Susan he sent a quick glance. He had never quite gotten over his awkward first meeting with her.

Being her brother, Peter noticed, but misinterpreted. "You could be a little nicer to him, you know. He's a nice chap." he said as the son of Denethor pulled away.

Susan huffed and sidestepped to avoid a branch on the ground. "He is, but _nice_ just isn't quite enough."

"Su-"

"You didn't _see_ him, Peter." She said quite abruptly. "The way he looks at Frodo and that ring, it's like he's insane."

"He doesn't seem that way to me," Peter argued. He knew his sisters' moods. Girls were dangerous when they were getting tired. It was most unwise to start an argument, though it seemed all he and Edmund said could trigger one. Now, it seemed Peter was also following in his little brother's footsteps.

"Well that's because you don't know him." Susan's voice was crass. She bent down to pick up a log.

_And now you've done it again_. He sighed and started on gathering wood as well. "But it's something else, isn't it?" _Aww, Pete, don't start!_ Edmund's voice shouted at him in his mind.

Susan huffed and ignored him.

"I _know_, Su. I can see it in the way you act around him. There's nothing _gentle_ about your behavior towards him-"

She hurled down the firewood. "Must you interfere with everything?"

His temper rose, as it often did when his siblings were involved. "No. Only when I think someone is being unfairly treated!"

Susan growled and whirled away from her brother. He was _infuriating_. And this after only three days together! "You don't know him, Peter. I do!"

"Who does he remind you off, that you hate so much?" Peter was quite aware he was overstepping every civilized boundary ever established. But he figured, _new world, new rules, right?_

"He reminds me of Rabadash, alright?"

_Wrong, mate_. Peter stopped in uncertainty. "How?" This was a surprising twist.

"Just something he said when we first talked. The way he treated Aragorn before – and _after_ – he knew he was a royal heir. And Frodo!" She added, putting more heat into each new word. With a hand to her forehead, she suddenly realized that the peace she had felt from Lothlorien was gone. She calmed with a deep sigh. "Why must you always be so nosey?"

Peter smirked, accepting the attempt at humor. "It's my prerogative as the oldest." He spread out his hands as if that they were arguing gravity. Some things could not be disputed. Younger siblings were annoying and older siblings were bossy. He smiled, remembering all their arguments on that very subject through the years. Both in England and in Narnia.

Susan sighed and smiled. She had worked herself into a blush. She could feel it heating her cheeks. "Let's just please gather some wood?"

Peter nodded, accepting her win for the moment. "Very well." His eyes turned somber as he watched her return to work. "Susan?"

She stopped and faced him. "Now what?" She didn't hear the slight change in his voice, and was adamant not to ruin the moment of lightheartedness.

Turned out _she_ didn't have to. _He_ did that for her. "You know you can tell me. . .if" He inhaled deeply. "If anything's wrong?"

"I know." She returned to her work.

"I know it's been a long time since we've really talked, but I'm here. And I'm your brother. If anything's wrong I'll help you."

She turned to look at him again, honestly grateful. But she wasn't sure if she could open up the way she had in Narnia. They no longer had a kingdom to run. Her problems seemed trivial next to those they had all had in Narnia. When she didn't speak, Peter continued.

"I heard you last night. You were talking in your sleep." His voice turned dreadfully sad.

Susan sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. This was the exact conversation she _didn't_ want to have. "We all have bad dreams once in awhile, Peter." She sounded tired, even to her own ears.

"Yes, but not about dying. That's usually Edmund's forte."

"It really doesn't matter, Peter."

She was clever, he'd give her _that_. But _he_ was stubborn. "What happened back in England?"

"You mean just before I came here or after we returned from Narnia?" She was stalling and it was wearing frightfully thin.

"Both. If you wish?" Peter had stopped his work completely, though Susan was still trying to put some distance between herself and her brother by pretending to look for logs. The darkness was moving quickly now and the light was almost blue.

"Well, I think we just drifted apart like normal siblings. There's nothing wrong with that."

"There's everything wrong with that. We're _not_ normal."

She sighed again, knowing that this discussion was inevitable. "I just lost track of things for a while."

"There was almost a _year_ where we didn't speak." His voice was tormented as if it hurt his heart to admit it. "You and Lucy as well."

Susan had now stopped the pretense of searching for firewood and looked at her brother fully. "I was lost, Peter." Her voice was choked. "I was lost and so were you all, and I couldn't bear it. I know you all think I didn't love Narnia as much as you-"

Peter dropped everything in his hands and stepped right up to her. He grabbed her shoulders. "We _never_ thought that, Susan." His eyes softened and he could feel tears pressing over the sight of his sister almost in tears as well. "We would never think that of you. We _love_ you." He shook her slightly.

Tears were rolling from her eyes. She sobbed once. "I'm sorry-"

"For what? _Crying_?" He lowered his head to look her in the eye. "Never be sorry for being who you are." She sobbed again and he shook her – albeit a bit more gently this time. "Never."

"I m-miss it so _much_, Peter." Her voice wobbled and almost brought him to his knees.

He had never handled it well when either of his siblings cried, although Edmund did it much less than the girls. "I know, darling. Me too," He pulled her in for a hug and let two tears of his own fall. "Me too."

She sobbed into his shirt for a few minutes and enjoyed the closeness. Her composure fell back into place far too quickly for her brother's liking. "I guess I blamed myself and Aslan for taking us away," she sniffed. "I was afraid of what you might think of me. So I just closed off from you all." Tears were still rolling quietly down her cheeks.

Peter had managed to pull himself together enough not to cry. "We all blamed ourselves. We were children. That's what children tend to do," He stroked her hair away from her face.

Susan looked up at her older brother and suddenly realized how much he had grown in the last five years. "When did _you_ become so wise?"

He chuckled and made her giggle while she was wiping the tears off her face. "Too long after Edmund, I think."

"That little weasel. He's probably known all along." Susan agreed in a lighter voice.

Peter laughed with her and shook her again for good measure. "He always _was_ the smart one."

Susan sobbed once again, nearly losing her composure. "Please tell me they're alright!"

Peter's breath hitched at the thought of either of their younger siblings hurt. "I hope so. If not we'll make sure they are."

"We have to find them, Peter." She leaned fully into his embrace and tried not to imagine the horrible things that could've happened by now.

"We will. I promise. Even if we have to cross Middle-Earth to do it."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> TBC. Thanks for being awesome!


	12. Chapter 12: The Call of Distant Memories

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Narnia, don't own Middle-Earth, don't own fanfiction-dot-net.

**Author's Note:** There's a reason I mention this site. It was being really weird today, so I apologize if something comes out...hicky. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

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><p>Chapter 12 – The Call of Distant Memories<p>

The next morning, Susan and Peter seemed closer in the eyes of the rest of the Fellowship. They hardly spoke, but everything they did seemed in tandem with one another. Most of them had overhead their argument the night before, but not the tearful concerns over the youngest Pevensies. Aragorn went about his business quietly, as did Legolas. It was still early. The sun had risen and food was being prepared over a small fire.

"Sausages are ready!" Sam called. Pippin and Merry huddled over first. There were tomatoes, sausages and eggs. That and the lembas bread made for a wonderful meal.

"How far till we reach Argonath?" Boromir asked Aragorn.

He looked down the river and into the sky. The ranger had a curious ability to study a piece of moss and find his way to Gondor from it. "Seven days if my skills don't betray me." he answered and received a plate from Frodo. "Thank you." The young hobbit sat next to him and ate quietly.

"From there we go on foot?" Susan asked and sat next to Peter with her own plate.

Aragorn nodded. "We'll camp one night on the west bank before we cross to the eastern and walk from there."

"Seems a shame to leave these pretty boats behind." Gimli commented.

Legolas grinned into a bite of bread. "You are welcome to carry them to Mordor, my friend."

Gimli growled and the two started a light argument. Susan suspected it was simply to pass the time and fill the air with something other than silence.

Peter looked over at his sister as she watched Gimli and Legolas argue along with all the others. She seemed brighter than she had in years. "You look good, Susan." he said quietly. "I don't think I've told you that since we arrived here."

She smiled and leaned her shoulder against his. "So do you."

"It's the fresh air, I think." Peter mumbled calmly and rested his head against hers when she leaned it on his shoulder. "It was the same in Narnia. Remember how sick we all got when we returned to London?" He chuckled, for the memory wasn't a bitter one. "Edmund was coughing and drooling everywhere and Lucy was so congested. She sounded eight years old again."

Susan smiled, but quickly faltered. "That's because she was."

Peter's smile faded as well. "Right."

"Seems like several lifetimes ago." Susan said softly. Peter hummed his agreement. "Peter, you remember I mentioned Gandalf?"

"The wizard who was traveling with you?"

"Yes."

"I must admit, I find it hard to believe he was actually a _wizard_,"

"You wouldn't if you had met him." Susan no longer felt the overwhelming sorrow she first had. It was still almost too much to bear, but bearable never the less. "He said he had lived three hundred human lifetimes."

"That's-" Peter whistled. "That's impossible."

"But somehow you wouldn't think so if you met him. He reminded me a little of Aslan sometimes. When he wasn't so serious." She smiled. Their eyes were still turned to their companions. Her smile vanished and was replaced with sadness. The last time she had seen him replayed in her mind's eye.

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><p><em>A chasm opened. A delicate bridge spanned the width between two massive walls; like a needle, piercing an ocean of black. A slim road across nothingness. The darkness was overwhelming and far too quiet. And yet, beneath the consistent booms of the Balrog's steps, beneath the hissing of arrows that shot out of the dark, Susan imagined she heard a whisper. It was as if someone was watching from below. Black eyes, looking up at them as they crossed the bridge.<em>

_She slipped, but was caught by Aragorn. She shivered to think what was waiting for her in the darkness below._

_But the arrival of the Flame stopped all thoughts. Left behind was only raw fear and panic. All turned as one and watched the Balrog unfold its wings and land with a heavy BOOM. But still, despite the panic and fear of the Balrog, Susan couldn't tear her mind from the darkness. For all its fury, the Balrog was a mere flicker compared to the emptiness around it. _

_She panted and tried to see through the dark to the other side of the chasm. Goblins were firing arrows from the arches and stairs behind the Balrog. She and Legolas tried a few times to aim for their smaller antagonists, but there were too many crawling shadows to hit them all._

_The Balrog roared so loud Susan was left with a ringing in her ears. Gandalf sped back onto the narrow bridge. All Susan could see of him was his silhouette amidst a sea of fire and smoke. All she could hear after the roar was a sudden, quiet chuckle. It was the darkness below them. For days she had imagined voices in the dark, but here they were real. _

_It was quietly watching and had been doing so for days. Susan was behind Legolas, flanked by him and Aragorn._

"_Gandalf!" It was Aragorn's voice. _

_Her own fear was like a spike through her heart. No matter how hard she tried she was unable to ignore the darkness below her. She glanced up and saw to her horror that Gandalf was on the bridge. He was teetering on the edge of the darkness. She pushed forward, but felt two arms wrap around her. "No!" Her bark made the wizard turn just as fire flickered to life with a roar._

_But even so, it was barely enough to light its face. The darkness was going to claim Gandalf that day. She knew it, without understanding how. There were shrieks and cries in the darkness and she realized that it had been watching. What she had thought was only in her mind, had been something all along. Something following them. Something hungry._

_Gandalf raised his staff. "You cannot pass!" _

_The Balrog huffed, almost in amusement. And still the darkness watched. She thought she heard it giggle._

"_Gandalf!" It was Frodo, but Boromir caught him. The little hobbit had tears in his eyes. He knew what would happen as well. He could feel it. This was why Gandalf had been so reluctant to venture into the mines. He knew, not only that he would face the Balrog, but that if he did it would claim his life. She knew, had Boromir not caught him, Frodo would have lunged over the edge and into the darkness. He was waiting for the moment when Gandalf fell._

_Just like her. Susan was watching everything unfold too slowly. Goblins were still attacking, but didn't dare cross the Balrog. It wasn't them she feared. They seemed quite unintelligent and doubted they even knew it had a name. The monster of fire seemed to bring light at first glance. But only really illuminated itself. To everything around it, it brought smoke and a thicker darkness. _

_The chasm below whispered to her. She hated the darkness and knew she would carry this feeling with her the rest of her life. Her childhood fear of the dark would return and she would never shake it. For this she hated it._

"_I am the Servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Arnor." _

_Susan gasped. Frodo cried out. She prayed Boromir could hold on. She had no doubt Frodo would have followed Gandalf into the depths of Moria if no one stopped him. Her heart was pounding and making her shake._

"_Go back to the shadow." He whispered. The sound reminded her of someone blowing out a candle, barely audible over the roar of the Balrog's fire. A sigh among the hissing flames and quiet giggles from the dark._

"_The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udun!"_

_Aragorn shivered. She felt it through his clothes as he held her. He was realizing the fate of Gandalf as well. _

"_You. Shall not. PASS!" The wizard pounded his staff into the narrow bridge and something gave way._

_She saw it tear and heard the foundations crackle. She flinched, but didn't really want to go anywhere near the darkness. She was restrained by Aragorn. "Susan, don't!" His voice was breathless._

_She could hear Frodo screaming. She stilled, not out of will, but morbid curiosity._

_The Balrog raised a fiery sword, like the one her holy angels carried. It struck, but the light from Gandalf's staff kept it at bay. This was more than a pitiful swordfight, she realized. A long whip replaced the sword and lashed through the air. It crackled and hissed. This was one light against another. The Balrog stepped forward and looked down. "The bridge is giving," Her voice was a whimper and none but Aragorn heard it._

"_Gandalf!" The ranger roared, but the old wizard was beyond their calls. He was facing his own death, Susan realized._

_Something shallow cracked. The darkness chuckled. It didn't care who fell and swallowed all without bias. The Balrog stepped again and the slim bridge broke in half. One end splintered into rubble and dust, but Gandalf still stood. All drew deep sighs of relief, save for her, Aragorn and Frodo. They all knew it was not over. A deep purr filled the silence. It rose from below. It came from the darkness._

_Gandalf turned and looked at Frodo. A very tender expression came over his face and his shoulders dropped. Susan could still feel adrenalin pounding through her body and was anxious to get him back. "Gan-"_

_But the darkness wasn't full. A whip of fire reared up and wrapped around his leg. The wizard flinched so violently she almost did as well. He was pulled down, but managed to hang on. Frodo screamed in agony, and was barely held back by Boromir. _"_Gandalf! NO!" The pain in his voice was countered by a light sigh from the black depths below._

_Susan knew it was too late. "Fly, you fools."_

_Then he fell. _

_At that moment Susan remembered some of Gandalf's first words to her. __"There are many powers in this world, Susan, for good or for evil. Some are greater than I am. Against some I have not yet been measured. But my time is coming."_

_She had been scared for him that day. He had seemed so fragile. Left behind were the screams of the hobbits and the emptiness. The ridge across from theirs quickly filled with goblins. Arrows hissed as they split the stale air. Susan was ripped out her shock and pushed forward._

_As she left, she heard a sound from the darkness. It was a giggle._

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><p>"I'm sorry," Peter noticed his sister's smile had washed away and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.<p>

"So am I." She relished the warmth and closed her eyes.

They mounted the boats and sailed for the rest of the day. That evening she and Peter made up their minds to go a' hunting. "Stay close." Aragorn called and earned chuckles from the rest of the Fellowship members.

"She shoots better than you, lad," Gimli smirked through his beard. Aragorn smiled and set about unrolling his sleeping roll.

"Remember, it has black feathers with a yellow tip and a white chest. The female's the same size only brown." Sam called.

Peter acknowledged him with a raised hand as they retreated. "We will." He had graciously been allowed to borrow Aragorn's bow under the promise that he knew how to handle one. Susan thought it mightily amusing that her older, and oh so perfect brother, had to prove himself to anyone. Especially when _she_ didn't.

"What did he say it was called?" he asked as they trudged through the wilderness.

"A Lockspring." Susan answered.

"Lockspring. Aslan, I miss Narnian roast," His mouth watered.

Susan giggled. "You're just hungry. Help me and we'll eat like royals for one night."

He smiled and hurried after his sister. He stopped when she did and crouched as well.

"Does that look like a black bird, with yellow wingtips and a white chest, to _you_?" She turned her sparkling eyes to her brother.

He gave a feral smile. "It looks like a Lockspring."

She smirked and notched an arrow. "It's not as large as I expected." It was roughly the size of a pheasant.

"It's more than enough, don't you think?" Peter was almost breathless. It had been a long time since he'd been so hungry.

"Have you seen Pippin eat?" She released the arrow and hit the bird through the heart. It fell dead to the ground with a satisfying _thump_. "We should see if there are any others around."

"Alright," Peter followed, and carried the bird for her. After another half hour darkness had fallen almost completely. "We're not gonna find another one, Su. Let's just head back."

Susan sighed, but knew they had stayed out longer than intended. And she would need light to find her way back. She and her brother were both excellent trackers. Though Susan had never much used the skill in Narnia, save for a few leisure hunts. It didn't come as natural to her as to her brothers. She ignored the fact that Peter constantly complained about how she missed clues he would have seen. She was trained to scout for humans, not muddy footprints. For Peter it was a skill he had honed and used more times than he could remember. An old wolf, named Landon, had taught both he and Edmund in Narnia. And so, picking out the trail back to the camp was not the problem. The problem came when all signs of light disappeared from the sky.

"We're lost." He sighed and stared blindly into the twilight.

Susan's mood had dropped dramatically as the sun sank. "No we're not. We just follow this direction and we're bound to hit water."

"We passed a fallen oak where we turned left," He wasn't actually sure it was an oak, remembering this was not English trees, but it had looked like one. "Without light we're lost, Su. Face it."

"So what do you expect me to do?" Susan's temper was boiling. She had been tired when they first set out and now she was getting grumpy as well.

Peter paused a moment. "Boromir!" His voice carried through the night. Birds called cheerfully for one another, and somewhere in the distance a larger animal called to its friends.

Susan sighed and accepted the inevitable. "Fine," she huffed. "Aragorn!"

"Boromir!"

"Gimli! Legolas!"

Their clear voices carried through the lean undergrowth easily. A faint reply caught Peter's ear. "Shh, listen!" They both tensed.

"_Susan!"_

"It came from there!" she cried and hurried in the direction she had pointed. "Aragorn!"

"Susan!" It was his voice, but more than one pair of feet were crackling through the forest. "Where are you?"

"Here!" both Pevensies yelled. Peter made sure to stay by his sister's back as best he could. "We're here!"

Torchlight came into view and both released sighs.

"Come closer!" Boromir called.

"I see them!" Legolas called. "Aragorn, here!"

"Legolas." Susan smiled as he came into view and flung herself into his arms. Aragorn and Boromir arrived only seconds later with a torch to dispel the darkness. She hugged each of them in turn. Peter shook their hands in thanks. "We thought we'd have to spend the night in the forest." she said with relief evident in her voice.

"You very nearly were."

"I hope you haven't eaten," Peter held up the bird.

Boromir smiled and clapped his back. "Splendid! Sam will be pleased."

Susan tripped over a fallen branch and was caught by him in the last instant.

"Careful, my Queen." His voice was soft and there was a warm glow about him.

_Perhaps Peter was right?_ she thought as she allowed Boromir to guide her back with a grip on his elbow. They were met with cheers back in the camp. The fire was still hissing merrily and the four hobbits sat around it with Gimli. "My Queen!" the red dwarf called and jumped to his feet. He embraced her warmly and laughed. "I knew you would never get lost, but those _buffoons_ were sure," Gimli glared at Legolas. "Children."

Susan laughed. "I'm afraid they were quite right, Gimli. We lost track of time and before we knew, the sun had set." She relished the open show of affection. "But we found a Lockspring." In truth she had been a little scared as well. She didn't like not being able to see her surroundings or where she put her feet.

"It's good to be back," Peter said and sat down in front of the fire with the bird.

Sam instantly found a seat next to him. "What a beauty. I reckon there'll be enough for seconds."

"Should I skin it and clean it?" Peter suggested and was already removing his leather vest and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"I thought _yoo_ were'a king?" Pippin leaned over and asked.

Peter chuckled and crossed his legs in front of the fire. "I am many things, good my cousin."

"Yes, but a cook?" Boromir asked Susan in a low voice. She just smiled and turned away.

"Don't you mean '_my_ good cousin'?" Merry asked.

Peter smiled at Susan when she passed him a knife. "It's a Narnian expression."

"Why do you switch the two words?" Frodo asked and moved closer. Perhaps sensing a good story, the rest of the Fellowship settled down.

"Because love twists the words around," He smiled when all four hobbits blushed. "I remember the first time I heard it."

"Mrs. Beaver, wasn't it?" Susan interrupted as she took a seat across from him.

Peter nodded. "It was just after our victory over Jadis." Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were leaning against trees and watching with amusement. "She wouldn't stop fussing over Edmund and she said that to him," Peter let out a trill of laughter. Had anyone outside the little group noticed the three men, they would have been reminded of the way loving parents or friends watched over their loved ones. "I've never seen my brother look so confused." he chuckled. Feathers flew hither and thither and the smell of smoke filled the air.

"Where do you think I got the idea to pester him about eating more?" Susan asked with a crooked smile.

Peter let out a real laugh. Like the sound of pearls hitting a silver bowl. Clear and sharp. All the men around him smiled. In the dark, with a roof made of stars and the fire warming their faces, all their troubles seemed to melt away. After the bird was plucked and carved, Sam poured the bits into a large pot, declaring he was making stew. That night the air was filled with laughter and the delightful scent of food. Everyone ate, and drank, and were merry.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> The flashback in this chapter gave me quite a bit of grief. Your oppinion is appreciated. Lemme know what you felt after reading it?


	13. Chapter 13: Taking Argonath

**Disclaimer:** I don't have the imagination to think of something like this. I borrow.

**Author's Note:** As they do in the movie, so I will do here. End it where it wants to end. The statue Peter refers to features in another story of mine.

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><p>Chapter 13 – Taking Argonath<p>

It was slow going most of the way. The travellers traded places among the three boats. All except for Frodo. He made sure to always be in the boat with Aragorn or Susan and away from Boromir. It did indeed seem as if Boromir was sinking slowly into his own mind. The Lockspring had been eaten two days prior and the merriment it had brought was completely gone. In its place, a tense silence had crept in. One day Peter found himself in the boat with Boromir, Merry and Pippin. Susan was sailing with Legolas and Gimli in the boat in front of theirs, and Aragorn brought up the rear with Frodo and Sam.

Suddenly a shadow slid over Boromir's face and his eyes turned vacant. "She's such a lovely thing, isn't she," It wasn't posed as a question.

The hairs on Peter's neck instantly prickled. "Who?" He knew who, but was afraid to hear the answer. _I'm also gonna need some sort of confirmation if I'm to challenge him to a duel_, he thought ruefully.

"Susan," Boromir's voice was filled to the brim with some sort of sickly feeling.

Peter was afraid to dig too deep and identify it. He had never liked suitors, but had thought Boromir would be the exception. There had been nothing until now to suggest any kind of desire towards his sister. "She's not a prize to be won, Boromir." He kept his voice harsh and shocked the son of Denethor out of his stupor.

Merry and Pippin both flinched at Peter's hostile tone and then shrank into their seats.

Boromir chuckled lightly and Peter suddenly felt his blood run cold. This was not the mark of a healthy man. He had heard men laugh like that before. "Easy, little king. I mean no slight towards her." But his voice suggested otherwise. It sounded too disjointed. Too lustful.

And Peter _really_ hated it when people belittled his royal title and voiced impure thoughts about his sisters in the process. He didn't answer, but thought back to his and Susan's first argument a few days before. Perhaps there was some truth to her words, though he didn't like to admit it without knowing Boromir fully.

Peter had seen him staring at Frodo when he thought no one noticed. He had heard him mumble in his sleep the night before, and the next morning he woke up with black circles around his eyes. Peter could see where this was heading, but denied it. They would hold true. They had to, or Frodo and his quest was doomed.

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><p>Five days later, as Aragorn predicted, the Fellowship passed the Argonath. Two great statues stood several leagues high. Both were holding out their hands to ward off trespassers. Peter thought they looked very powerful, but a might bit unfriendly. He could never have imagined anything like this in Narnia. Certainly not of himself. It occurred to him that he had never had a statue made of himself or any of his siblings.<p>

He knew one had been made by an independent artist of Lucy, and that it stood deep within Lantern Waste. She and Edmund claimed to have seen it during their time with Prince Caspian, the first time around. On a morning, when both were out walking, they came across a very old ally – an old Badger. He had told them the story of Lucy's statue. They had been joined by a few Animals and shown the way. The Child Star, they called it.

It had been built sometime between ten and a hundred years after the Pevensies vanished. Hundreds of years before the Telmarines invaded. Peter had no idea any renditions of his siblings ever existed, but felt grateful for some reason. To have one of his siblings commemorated like that meant more to him than any other present he had ever received. Edmund said Lucy cried when she saw it.

It was a dainty, little thing. Snuggled in between tall ferns, velvety birches and Spanish moss. Made in granite and half covered in moss, she still thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes upon. Edmund had asked her why she cried, and she had pointed to a carved daisy behind the statue's left ear. To Peter she said this: "Mr. Tumnus used to give me daisies. I used to put them behind my ears, just _like_ that." To Peter it meant nothing, but Lucy was sure it was Mr. Tumnus himself who had carved the statue. And somehow it only made the little sculpture all the more special.

They had asked who the artist was, but no one knew. They believed it had to have been a monkey or a faun, due to all the details in the work. But Lucy was sure. It _had_ to have been Mr. Tumnus. "Who else?" Edmund had asked with a smirk and a shrug.

Peter snapped out of his daydreams as they passed between the giant statues. "Isildur and Elendil," Legolas said as their boat slipped past their feet. "The greatest kings of men."

"The greatest disappointment too," Gimli grumbled. Legolas shot him a stern look, but kept quiet.

"Why a disappointment?" Peter asked.

"No one told you the story?" Legolas asked surprised.

Peter shook his head.

Legolas glanced over at Aragorn in the other boat. "Do you know of Aragorn's heritance?"

Peter nodded. Galadriel had mentioned that he was the son of a great king of old. Then it hit him. "Elendil's heir? Heir to the throne of Gondor?" He looked aghast at the tall ranger.

"Yes. The _rightful_ heir to the throne." Legolas shot a quick look Boromir's way, but didn't speak of it.

He didn't have to. Peter figured it out for himself. "I thought Boromir was the heir?"

"His father is the steward and obligated to step down once Aragorn reclaims what is his." The elf seemed almost hostile towards Denethor.

"And what if he _doesn't_ step down?" Peter had firsthand experience with giving up all that power and passing it on to someone else. It had taken him a tragedy to realize he could no longer serve his country like it deserved. He feared _he_ might be among the victims this time around.

"I'm sure-" Gimli stopped himself before he could finish the sentence. "I'm certain _someone_ will be able to convince the steward, lad." He shared a look with Legolas which spoke volumes. Sorrow thickened with regret. _Gandalf_.

"I'm sure you're right, my friend." Legolas said in a soft voice.

"We go ashore." Aragorn shouted from the front. They spotted a little patch of gravel, probably once used for this very purpose. Susan was helped ashore, but couldn't keep her feet entirely dry. The hobbits were carried. They looked around. It was still only a little before noon. They had a whole day ahead of them. "This is where we'll rest tonight. Tomorrow we head for the eastern shore and Emyn Muil."

"What say you, sister? Shall we go a' hunting?" Peter asked with a cheeky grin. Anything to veer his mind away from its troubling path.

"Perhaps it would be better if you stayed with the group for tonight." Legolas interrupted quietly. The elf seemed upset and it didn't pass by the siblings unseen.

"Legolas. You worry too much. There's a river between us and danger." Aragorn said.

"It is not the eastern bank that concerns me, _mellon-nin_." Legolas was looking inland.

"You sense something?" His voice lowered.

"Yes. Though, I know not what."

Aragorn nodded gravely. "We'll stay in the area."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "I think I want to take a walk." He smirked and took off on silent feet.

"Why does _he_ get to leave?" Susan asked, a bit affronted.

"He's our best scout." Aragorn answered and shared a meaningful look with Boromir. The son of Denethor understood, although a little belatedly, what Aragorn was conveying and nodded back. Danger was in the air.

"Right. Might as well make myself useful," Susan said abruptly and rose. "I'll go get some firewood." She had felt a pressing need to spend a moment alone. Her brothers never understood why she and Lucy adapted so easily to sleeping in separate quarters during their reign. Susan knew it was because she and Lucy both wore masks as queens. Not in the same way as their brothers, though they too suffered under pretenses sometimes. No. Women in powerful positions _needed_ two faces. And Susan had never been able to relax completely unless she was alone. Lucy felt the same way, she knew.

Aragorn nodded, keeping track of how many left the camp. "Stay close."

"Yes, yes." she said dismissively and left.

"I suppose I'll just stay here then." Peter said and sat down next to Merry and Pippin.

"We could practice our swords a little?" Merry suggested. He had yet to really speak with Peter, which was a shame, because the young man seemed like a good sort.

Peter thought on it for a moment and then nodded. He drew his own sword and began 'fighting' with Merry and Pippin. Though the sword was much lighter, and different to handle than Rhindon, Peter found he still had most of the skill he'd obtained in Narnia.

Aragorn was surprised to see how well Peter fought and was amazed at how easily he adapted to his opponents' sizes. For most of Peter's size and build, fighting anything below his knees would often get very clumsy and uncoordinated. But not with Peter. He seemed to have developed a technique that allowed him to fight on equal footing with the hobbits. They were short and fast so he used quick jabs with his sword, instead of wide, sweeping arches.

Instead of keeping a high guard, he jumped and moved constantly to keep the hobbits moving as well. The time passed with the dull clanks of their swords and almost an hour flew by.

But then, as if a cloud passed before the sun, the mood changed.

Legolas had returned and came up to Aragorn. He spoke quietly with him. "I fear something is coming from the south." The pretend fighting stopped.

Aragorn sobered at his low, panicked tone and looked around the camp. "Where are Boromir and Susan?" He looked again, a bit closer. "And Frodo?" He scanned between the others and noticed Peter was looking around as well.

"Susan's out gathering wood. I don't know about the other two." Gimli answered in a small voice.

"Damn!" Aragorn could've spat at his own lack of concentration. Frodo could not simply walk about and certainly not with Boromir walking about also.

* * *

><p>By then Frodo had been walking about for almost half an hour; Susan had been gone for almost a full hour and Boromir, a few minutes.<p>

"Hello Frodo." Boromir called cheerfully, though it sounded forced. He looked so tired and his posture looked all wrong. Hunched over almost. Something in his voice made the little hobbit stop.

Behind a small cluster of bushes Susan heard Boromir speak and quietly dropped her firewood. She found a hole in the bushes and saw Frodo leaning away from Boromir uneasily. Her hands were itching to grasp her bow and notch an arrow. There was something terribly wrong. She suddenly felt like a rabbit, about to balk.

"Boromir. What are you doing?" Frodo asked.

She could see he was terrified as well, but still felt hesitant about stepping out and revealing her position. He stepped closer and she felt her stomach turn. _He wants the Ring_.

"I was looking for you. You should head back to camp?" His eyes scanned the trees and shrubs constantly, and Susan was praying he didn't see her.

"Yes. I should. I think I _will_ do that." He was backing up, slowly inching away.

"Why do you shy away from me, Frodo?" Boromir seemed genuinely confused.

_Oh please, just let him walk away and let nothing come of it. Please, Boromir_. Susan prayed with all her might that the Gondorian would see reason. That she wouldn't have to step in.

"You're not yourself." Frodo answered and backed away further when Boromir took another little step towards him.

"Why do you say that? I am more myself on this day than I have been on any so far." he pleaded, almost desperately.

"Stay back!"

"Frodo, please. I see how much this is wearing you down. I _suffer_ with you!" And he really did seem to suffer just then.

Susan had her bow out and was reaching for an arrow. Though she loathed the idea of hurting any member of the Fellowship she knew that Frodo was more important than Boromir. She was almost overcome with relief that it wasn't her brother, threatening the hobbit. She couldn't have shot _him_. She notched the arrow, and knew she might have to fire. Frodo alone could carry the Ring to Mordor.

Boromir flinched when the Ringbearer turned to run, but found himself backed up against a tree. "Frodo, give me the Ring!"

"Stop!" Susan cried and stepped out from her hiding place. Though her actions so far might appear unworthy of a queen, and perhaps even a bit cowardly, you have to remember that she wasn't yet fully aware what was at stake. It was easy to handle the concept of evil when there were no true evildoers around. She had not yet witnessed just _how_ cruel this world could be.

"Susan, he's insane!" Frodo cried in panic.

"Boromir, stop!"

He didn't even seem to fully realize she was there. "Give me the Ring," he pleaded and reached out.

"Susan, shoot him!"

Boromir screamed and lunged. She aimed for his arm and fired. The arrow only grazed him and he hardly seemed to notice the pain. Frodo cried out as he tried to wrestle the ring from him. Then something happened Susan had not expected. The ring slipped over Frodo's finger and he vanished. She had never seen anyone wear the ring and was unaware it could even _do_ that. Boromir bounced back as if kicked, and the leaves scrambled away. Towards the Seeing Hill – an outpost that overlooked the river and was said to allow one to see as far as Mordor. Boromir cried in anger and kicked and punched the leaves, making them fly willy-nilly into the air.

"Frodo!" he screamed.

Susan watched as he panted with rage. She was quite numb herself and could hardly feel her fingers anymore. "Boromir?" Her voice was a shadow of its usual strength.

He then turned to her as if she was a monster and not a fair, young woman. "You!" he hissed and scrambled up from the ground.

She forgot all archery skills that had ever been drilled into her and ran. She didn't want to kill him, and that seemed the only possible way of stopping him just then. She ran and almost crawled over the soft ground when something heavy slammed into her back. She cried out and hit the ground. Leaves flew into the air in a little cloud of brown.

"Why did you steal it from me!" he cried angrily and flipped her over.

Tears were running down her cheeks and her sobs were loud in the mild wind. She struggled but he made a fist and punched her in the mouth. She felt quite dazed for about two seconds before a rush of pain brought with it a sense of power. She locked her jaw and kicked up and out. She sent him toppling back in a whirl of curses and spit. He lunged after her again, but she scrambled back a step. "Boromir, you have to listen to me-"

"Frodo intends to give it Sauron," he bellowed in outrage. "You are _all_ traitors!"

"You're mad!" He lunged, but she dodged again. "We've fought together. Protected each other. Just _listen_ to me!"

He jumped and grabbed a snip of her sleeve. With it he pulled her back and forced her against a large tree. His hands wound their way around her neck and squeezed. She struggled and pushed against him, but nothing she did could push him back. She gasped when her vision started to blur, and a feeling of dizziness came over her. Then there was the faint sound of a roar in the wind that shocked them both. The ground did a topsy-turvy and she keeled over. Free air once again flowed into her lungs.

Boromir released her and sat on his backside in the dirt. He was crying violently and staring at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. She coughed and tenderly pressed the bruises on her throat. "B-omir-" She gasped and frowned when it sounded horribly hoarse.

"I'm sorry," He was whimpering and scampering away from her. "Oh, Eru, I'm _sorry_." Tears were streaming freely from his eyes. "Forgive me, pl-please forgive me. I'm sorry."

Susan was still panting violently and squirming around on the ground. She could feel the roots of the tree digging into her hip.

"What have I done?" He stared into her eyes with such heartbreak she almost forgot her fear towards him.

Suddenly another roar could be heard in the distance. Sounds of fighting. "Th- oth-" Cough. "oth-rs." She coughed and nearly vomited when she tried to breathe properly.

"Orcs," Boromir looked around in fear. He took a faltering step in the direction of the sounds. "The little ones! Who's protecting the little ones?" He looked to her with wide eyes, asking what do to.

She nodded and tried to claw her way up. "Go!" she cried hoarsely. "Get them. _Go_!"

Boromir fled. He ran as fast as he could until he nearly ran past a group of orc-like creatures, heading for someone. Two hobbits. He changed direction and sped directly towards Merry and Pippin, ripping out his sword. He crashed into a large orc as it was about to attack them. With a cry, he skid in front of its axe and ripped it away. He fought all he could until he heard twin war cries from both hobbits. They stormed past him on their little legs with swords raised in the sky.

And for one moment in time, Boromir felt as if all was right.

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><p>Susan started stumbling, then jogging, then running, and lastly full-out sprinting up the hill. Towards the sounds of struggle. There she stopped in shock. These weren't orcs or goblins. Something much, much more terrifying. With skin like leather and teeth as sharp as needles. Hardly a drop of blood spilled from their wounds although the Fellows hacked and hacked at the sea of bodies.<p>

Seeing two more of the creatures attack her brother from behind, she notched an arrow and let it fly. It went under Peter's arm, a second after he raised it with sword in hand and ready to strike, and hit the beast in the throat. Peter quickly felled the second one and turned to his sister with a wide smile. It faded when he saw her bruises. Worry once again took over. "Susan!"

"Where's Frodo?" she called and ran over. Three more beasts ran towards them, and she fired three arrows in quick succession. Each hitting its mark.

"I don't know. Haven't seen him." He reached out to touch her chapped lip, but she batted him down.

"Maybe _after_ we finish killing the monsters?" she shouted over the noise and notched another arrow when more creatures came tumbling down the hill.

With a cry of _'Elendil'_ she saw Aragorn fly through the air and tackle three beasts to the ground. He wasted no time getting up and slitting the throats of four more. He noticed Peter and Susan and was about to speak when a horn pierced the war-cries.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas cried. "Boromir!" He started running with the remaining four behind him. Gimli fell behind so Peter helped guard his back.

Susan blindly ran after Aragorn and Legolas. Her breathing was only now returning to normal and she prayed she wouldn't misstep, or she'd be done for. If she fell now, she wasn't getting back up. As they reached a terrace in the terrain they saw Boromir on his knees.

He had three arrows sticking out of his torso already and a beast was only a few feet away, lining up another shot. It was pure brutality, Susan thought. With his wounds there was little hope for him and yet the creature intended to keep shooting until there was nothing left. Unexpectedly the thought brought tears to her eyes, born from sorrow as well as anger. She brusquely wiped them away and notched an arrow. She aimed at the beast's spine and fired while Aragorn ran around.

It hardly flinched, so she notched another and followed Aragorn to get a clean shot at its flanks. She aimed for its temple this time, but Aragorn reached it and moved them out of the shot just after the arrow left her bow. It glanced off its skull, leaving a black wound with hardly any blood. The two combatants tumbled to the ground in a heap.

It was then she spotted the dead beasts, scattered around Boromir. She approached him, barely aware that Aragorn was still fighting the beast and too afraid to be much help. Vaguely she heard Gimli shouting at the fleeing beasts and footsteps behind her. She stood like a frozen statue over Boromir and didn't move until Aragorn returned and kneeled in front of him. The creature had been killed.

"The little ones! They took the little ones," Boromir's eyes looked glazed.

"Shh, be still," Aragorn said and pushed the hair out of Boromir's eyes. Susan kneeled on the ground next to them with tears and snot running down her face.

"Frodo! Where is Frodo?" Blood was dotting his cheeks.

"I let him go," Aragorn whispered.

"Then you did wh-what I could not." Boromir said. He was panting. His eyes turned to Susan's a brief instant. "I'm-m sorry-"

"Shh," She reached out and carded her fingers through his hair, much like Aragorn was cupping his head. "I forgive you," she sobbed. Just then Peter, Gimli and Legolas charged into the clearing and stopped in shock.

"I t-tried to take the Ring from him," Boromir attempted to sit up, but was pushed back far too easily by Aragorn.

"He's beyond our reach now," he answered. Susan wondered what he meant by that.

"Forgive me. I did not see." He grit out every word.

"No, Boromir. You fought bravely," Aragorn's eyes were fluid as the ocean. A drop dislodged. "You have kept your honor." He tried to reach for the arrows, and Susan was about to stop him when Boromir did it himself.

"Leave it. It is over. The world of men will f-fall to darkness... and my city to ruin." Boromir reached up to grasp his hand as if hanging on to life itself, and Aragorn grabbed it back just as tightly.

"I don't know what strength is in my blood, but I _swear_ to you:" He gave him a little shake. "I will not let the White City fall. Nor let our people despair."

Boromir's face fell in a look of pure relief. "Our people. . ."

Aragorn nodded and tightened his grip.

He weakly reached for his shattered sword, and Aragorn passed it to him. "I would have followed you, my brother," Boromir half smiled through his desperate inhales. "My captain. My. My king." He clutched the sword to his chest and seemed to almost lift from the ground as he took his last, deep inhale. Everything silenced. Not even birds were heard. Even the wind seemed to pause in respect.

"Be at peace," Aragorn kissed Boromir's hand and placed it on his heart. "Son of Gondor." And kissed his forehead.

Susan was openly sobbing. Legolas and Peter both had tears in their eyes. Gimli was the only one not crying, though there seemed to be a look of deep sorrow. One Susan suspected would last longer than any of the others would carry.

A moment passed where time ceased. Then a bird called out hesitantly in the distance. A gust of wind shuffled the leaves on the forest floor and picked a couple into the air.

"What do we do now?" Legolas was the first to speak. "The Quest is lost."

"No." Aragorn stood and wiped his eyes. In the place of a grieving man, had arrived a king. Susan had felt the presence of kings many times and could recognize it anywhere. There others seemed to as well. "We will not leave our friends to torture and death by the hands of Saruman."

"And what of Frodo?" Gimli asked.

"I let him go. I suspect Sam is with him." Aragorn said quietly.

"We should bury him," Susan said through her deep breaths and tears. She was holding his hand and petting it softly. Peter noticed and walked over to pull her up.

"We don't have time," Aragorn said and picked up his sword.

* * *

><p>Boromir received a river's burial. They removed the arrows from his torso and his cloak. One of the boats was stripped of its seats and he was placed in it. His shattered sword and cloven horn on his chest. The swords of the dead beasts were laid at his feet. The cloak was placed under his head as a pillow. Only five mourned the passing of the Son of Gondor that day. They watched as the boat slipped over the edge of Rauros. Like a leaf, it tipped over the falls and plummeted into the delta below.<p>

"What now?" Legolas asked. His voice was strange and dull. It was a tone Aragorn had never heard from his friend before, and it scared him.

"We hunt the creatures that took our friends. We save Merry and Pippin."

The remaining members of the Fellowship looked at Aragorn and unconsciously straightened their backs. Though they were tired and beaten, his words gave them some sort of strength. A purpose.

For another moment the ranger looked off in the horizon where land met sky. He inhaled deeply and whispered something into the air. When he once again opened his eyes the exhaustion had been washed from them. No fear or sadness. Only black purpose. Only an urge to kill.

"Let's hunt some orc."

**To be continued...**

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And that was the end of book one. First chapter of book two will be uploaded tomorrow. Probably second as well come to think about it... I'm leaving for the states in a month and will be gone for five weeks. It would be nice if I could finish this before I left. Let me know what you thought and I'll give you another ;P


	14. Chapter 14: Orthanc

**Disclaimer: **The second book (as well as the other two) belongs to Tolkien. The movies to Warner Brothers. I borrow.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for sticking around :)

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><p><strong>Second Book: The Two Towers…<strong>

"_Gandalf… Yes... That is what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name. . . __I__ am Gandalf the __White__. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."_

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><p>Chapter 14 – Orthanc<p>

Orthanc might have looked like a warm place. Bowels of hell even, with the fire and brimstone. But in reality it was quite cold anywhere but right next to the furnaces. Edmund quickly figured this out. The first morning a group of orcs had arrived outside the large fence to slobber over the people inside. That was the first time it hit Edmund that they were intended as meals. He held his sister tighter after that. He didn't sleep that first night so she could.

About two days after their arrival, with no food and no water, they were all let out. Lucy had been shivering, thinking they were going to get eaten. She had clung to his arm in a vice-like grip. He had measured the distance to the latter which led to freedom and wondered how many orcs he could fight off with his wrists chained.

Turned out they were to serve a purpose until their respective "dinner appointments". They were to drag wood from the edge of Fangorn and drag _that_ to the coal-blasts. They would then drag the coal to the furnaces. It was hard labor, but not impossible. In truth, it reminded Edmund a lot of home. He had visited the blacksmith-dwarves of Narnia for longer periods of time and worked around the furnaces there. In the beginning he had to do menial labor as well. He knew a bit about the trade. Enough to realize, the weapons being made in Isengard were crude, but strong and durable.

It was tempered steel. Rods, really. Not swords. Only one edge on their blades was sharpened. The best Edmund could figure was that their weapons were designed to be used almost as bludgeons. He saw the larger orcs practice sometimes, as he dragged coal from the blasts to the furnace.

Most were skilled enough to take a civilian's head off. Some were better. In his head he imagined he could fight off as many as it took for his sister to escape. It wasn't until the first person from their cage was taken that reality hit him like a punch to the stomach. It was evening and everyone had just returned from a long day's work. Five orcs suddenly grabbed a woman from the group and pulled her, kicking and screaming. The rest were ushered inside and locked in.

Edmund still shuddered when he remembered her screams. The orcs had bitten into her in front of them. They had reveled in the fear they caused their slaves. A new anger rose in him that night as the whimpers and cries around him changed to exhausted snores. He didn't just dislike the orcs. He hated them with every fiber of his being. He wanted nothing more than to kill each and every one.

The very worst part was that Lucy was beginning to feel the same. She had stopped shivering whenever one came near. Instead she would go stiff and take a crouched stance. One he easily recognized from when he'd seen animals threatened. He wasn't so sure she would _want_ to flee anymore, should he give her the opportunity.

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><p>It was a random night, about one week after their abduction that this epiphany struck him. It was a clear night and they were sitting in their cage. Everyone was sleeping. The temperature had dropped after steadily rising the past few days. A cold front, it seemed. He didn't want to think that winter might be coming. His arms were around Lucy like they were every night. They had cut out their own little corner of the cage and his sister had fallen asleep after a long day of work with hardly any food. He sighed deeply and looked up.<p>

To his surprise he saw that stars were visible.

Lucy mumbled in her sleep. She shivered in the frosty darkness and nuzzled closer. He tightened his grip and cursed Aslan for bringing her here. He could have gone alone. Could have done whatever needed to be done alone. There was no need to bring Lucy into this. He frowned when he realized it was the first time since meeting him he had ever cursed the Lion. Lucy whimpered, battling nightmares. He started rubbing her arms and wondered how to get them both out.

There had to be some way of doing it so they could both escape. The new moon was rising over a line of mountains in the west. He looked up and caught the pale face of someone in the dark. They were sleeping. Everyone was sleeping. Even the orcs. He sighed and once again imagined the terrified screams of the woman who had been eaten. Could he leave them all to certain death?

There had to be a way to free them all.

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><p>Three weeks had passed to the day. Every day they had worked, and every night Edmund had held his sister close in fear that the orcs might take her. The days had grown warmer, the sun sharper. In the evenings they would be fed and watered and thrown back in their cage. Edmund had learned that the entire mine was shaped like a four-leaf clover around the central tower. Four large holes in the ground, with each a dozen furnaces. Each with several cages, filled with humans. Most were eaten. Those who weren't were those lucky few who died of exhaustion before the orcs could rip them apart.<p>

He looked out at the hell, surrounding him. _This was what he had earned?_ Fire, blood, screams and terror. _After sixteen years of service do I only get this?_

Lucy was quite contrary to her brother. Though he tried to hide it from her, she knew he thought of this as some sort of punishment. The issue of his betrayal wasn't _even_ an issue anymore, so why he felt a need for chastisement was beyond her. But she would watch him and make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

Lucy's experience of Orthanc – or 'hell' as Edmund had so lovingly dubbed it – was quite different from Ed's. She had gotten to know Esodhal's family in the days they spent together in their cage. A lot of people had simply given up. They had gone mad with grief or despair. Started crying and curled in on themselves. Lucy figured that was the _worst_ thing they could've done. That made them useless in the eyes of the orcs. So Lucy had snuggled up next to Edmund and started talking with the nice family, ignoring those who gave in, but hoping some would follow her example.

Essir, as the oldest son was called, was a little older than Edmund. About Susan's age. Essir had a younger sister, a few years Lucy's junior, named Livviah. Their mother was named Larrah. She learned that the two eldest sons of Esodhal were knights of Rohan. Out fighting to protect the country their king had forgotten. About a week after their capture, a new routine had arisen. They would wake at dawn, or when the first glimmers of sunlight reached the bottom of the smithy. They would work half the day, dragging coal and be allowed to eat, then go back to work. If they worked hard enough they avoided the sting of the whip. Both the Pevensies and their new friends had avoided the whip so far.

At midday they received their first meal, which was really just a lump of bread and some filthy water. Lucy had made the mistake of sniffing the water on her first day and had refused to drink it. "It's poisoned, Edmund! I've smelled water like this after a war. It happens when a body falls into a pool and starts to decompose-"

"I know, Lu." Edmund had said calmly. "But I've heard the orcs. There's a river nearby so the water isn't still. It's safe to drink."

Lucy had remained adamant the first day. Right until they were released for work the next day. That was the last time she refused the water, no matter how disgusting it was. "Now, will you listen to me?" Edmund had asked in infinite patience as he stroked his sister's hair back after she had fainted.

She didn't see the scuffle, but apparently a few orcs had gotten the idea that she was no longer useful and attempted to claim her for dinner. Edmund had defended her the only way that had been available to him. He had started throwing coal and causing a ruckus to draw attention from his unconscious sister. Esodhal had carried her back to the cage. Edmund had barely escaped alive. It was pure luck that one of the captains had arrived when he did and told his subordinates to piss off back to work. They could eat later.

By then Edmund was so badly beaten he could hardly walk. Essir said that when he approached him, Ed had flinched like a wild animal. Lucy started crying when she heard and promised to never faint again. She clung to her brother and tended to his cuts and bruises the best she could, but refused to use any of the water to clean them with. The last thing she needed was for Edmund to get a fever from infection.

That was the beginning of their time as slaves. It turned out that things would become far, far worse by the middle of the third week. Lucy was getting thinner. She was getting weaker. Not carrying as much as she had in the beginning. Edmund tried to help her. He covered for her, defended her, kept her awake, stole food for her. But nothing worked.

"It's the stars, Edmund."

She claimed she was fading because she couldn't see the stars. Ever since she was little Lucy had had a fanatical interest in the night sky. In Narnia she claimed they danced for her. The moon was like a mother, watching over her children.

"It's sleep deprivation and malnourishment." Edmund calmly explained as he checked her eyes. They were a little glazed, but that could be from exhaustion. "You need sleep and a meal that wasn't prepared on a dung-pile."

Lucy giggled at that. Edmund sensed that Esodhal's family was watching, even though he had his back to them. "I have to get you out of here," he said in a very calm voice. The one that usually meant something very bad was about to happen. He glanced back at Livviah. He wished he could get her whole family out, but even Lucy was risky enough.

Lucy seemed to pull her remaining energy together into a scowl. "No, Ed." Tears formed in her blue eyes.

"Lucy. _Yes_." He put a hand on her cheek and rubbed circles with his thumb. "If you stay here you'll die," He knew he was scaring her, but he needed her to understand why he _had_ to get her out. "They _will_ kill you."

"What about you?" Tears were rolling in steady currents down her face. Another testament to how tired she really was. But not a moan or sob escaped her lips. _Quiet as a field mouse, Dearest_.

"I'll find a way," Edmund promised with a smile. He had no clue how to get himself out without anyone noticing, but Lucy he _could_ save. "Tomorrow I want you to come with me up to Fangorn. There's a new load of wood, waiting to be dragged back to the coal-blasts."

She nodded and her breath hitched a little. "Why won't you come with me?" Her voice was a whimper.

Edmund almost wept. "I have to make sure you're not followed."

She seemed to not understand. "There are a million ways for you to do that without staying behind," The whimper was back in full force and Edmund almost fell to pieces. He didn't want her to leave anymore than she wanted to leave. He was about to speak, but she interrupted him. "You know better than anyone how to evade detection, Edmund. Why won't you do it for yourself?" She was almost begging him.

"I _have_ to make sure you get out first. If you do, I'll follow. I _promise_ you, Lucy."

"Take my family with you," Esodhal begged suddenly.

Edmund nearly flinched. But his surprise was quickly covered by a wave of hopelessness. "I'll never get that many out." He looked at them and his heart broke.

"Please. Just my daughter." Esodhal was desperate.

Edmund looked at the man and then his daughter. Could he live with himself if he actually saw the consequences of his actions? Could he live with himself if Livviah was torn to pieces right before his very eyes? The answer was easy enough, but that meant he lost the slim chance of escaping with Lucy. He would be breaking his promise to her. And if he told her that, she would never leave. "Alright. I'll see if I can get her out."

Esodhal melted in a relieved smile and grabbed his daughter's face. "When you get out, I want you to run for Edoras to your aunt. Do you understand? It's a three day journey, if you run. And you _must_." Livviah nodded and started crying. "Promise me, child!" He shook her once and she nodded.

Edmund's heart sank. "I'll take the two of you with me tomorrow and create a distraction."

Lucy had wiped the tears off her face and was trying to keep her composure, but almost failed every time Edmund spoke. Horrible thoughts kept swirling in her mind. This might very well be the last time she heard him speak. "And you promise you'll follow?" she asked him in a trembling voice.

"I promise, sister." He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

The tender gesture of comfort made her cry all over again. She leaned into his embrace and sobbed. Long and low sobs. Somewhere, deep in her mind, she knew he wouldn't. She knew he wouldn't follow as long as something kept him from it. And with an army of orcs behind him, he would never get the chance. That cut her worse than any task, promise or duty she had ever undertaken.

She fell asleep, dreaming of darkness and death. When she woke in the wee hours of the morning, Edmund was sitting next to her, wide awake. He didn't mention it. Just simply placed her head against his shoulder and stroked her hair back. The light of morning rolled over the land much like the previous twenty-four had. Grey and full of dust and smog; shouts and screams. He got to his feet and pulled Lucy with him. She didn't say a word. Livviah wouldn't stop crying. It probably didn't help that her family wouldn't either.

Their hands were bound and they were led out of Orthanc in two lines. There were only five orcs to guard almost twenty people as they made their way towards Fangorn. Edmund was standing next to Lucy who had Livviah behind her. "When I make my move, you run. Don't stop for anything. Understood?"

Lucy nodded dutifully. Her tears had run out, it seemed, and left behind a bleak expression. Their bonds were removed and they were sent to work. It took about an hour to fill the large carriage with wood from the felled trees. When the orcs decided it was ready, they called for departure. "Back to the coal-blast!"

Edmund saw his chance. One of the axils on the carriage was almost worn through. Rot and bad wood meant it was on the verge of splintering. He grabbed a fallen log off the ground, when the orcs turned their gazes elsewhere, and smacked the reaches as hard as he could. The beam that stabilized the length of the wagon cracked and broke. With it, it took all the axels on the left back wheel. The whole wagon tipped over and great chunks of wood fell out. The axels on the front wheels broke as well and sent the wagon tipping over completely.

Edmund sent a frantic glance back in Lucy's direction and saw to his satisfaction that she and Livviah had already set off in a dead run towards the forest. But then something happened. Livviah stopped and started pulling against Lucy until she fell. The girl turned and took off running along the border of the forest. Then the worst possible thing happened. One of the orcs spotted Livviah and called the alarm.

"We've got a runner!" it cried in a gleeful voice. Two of the orcs set after her and suddenly noticed Lucy as well.

Edmund panicked when he saw that his sister had stopped. "_LUCY_!" With a flinch, she awoke and started running again. By the time the orcs ran after her she had just cleared the tree line, and vanished into the thick forest.

"Leave her! Get the other one!" one of the orcs called and set after Livviah again.

"Oi!" Edmund shouted brazenly to the lead-orc, brandishing a wooden club in his hands. He swung and felt a thrill when something cracked inside its skull.

The remaining orcs went to attack him. They weren't outfitted with the same weapons as the Uruk-hai – Edmund had overheard a conversation between some of the orcs and learned the name from them. Apparently the two races didn't much like each other. The two orcs approached. Edmund stepped back into a fighting position. One orc chuckled and the other sneered. Both attacked simultaneously.

He blocked a swing from one and hit the other in the head. The one, who'd sneered at him, attacked again and knocked them both onto the ground in a heap. To his great dismay he was very easily overcome. By then all work on the edges of Fangorn had stopped and the last orcs returned empty handed from their chase after Livviah. Edmund smiled through the punches he received and tried to fight back. _The girls made it through_.

But over-exhaustion and mal nourishment had taken its toll on him and he was quickly beat into submission. _Four against one are unfair odds for anyone_, his brother's voice whispered in his mind. The beatings persisted until Edmund blacked out and slipped into unconsciousness.

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><p>When he woke, he was inside. He was lying on a cold floor, too spent to get up. The air was clean, as was the floor, the walls and every orner or crook he could see. Every surface sparkled. He turned his head and met the eyes of a man, completely dressed in white. He had dark-brown eyes and a tall, black staff clutched in his hands.<p>

"Hello, Edmund."

His breath left him and his blood started rushing. The Just King suddenly had the overwhelming sense that he had made the greatest mistake of his life.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> This is part of the orignal stuff I was talking about, by the way. Tell me if you think I'm right in my assumption, and if not, what you'd like to make it more so.


	15. Chapter 15: The Secrets of Fangorn

**Disclaimer:** I could never create something as profoundly riveting as what Lewis and Tolkien did.

**Author's Note:** A scurge has ravished the land. A plauge has struck the hapless population. Yesterday was the day of the Carnival in my fair city. Music filled the air, alcohol flowed through the streets - in rivulets of brown and with a smell unlike any other, but flow it did. People pranced around in funny costumes - myself no exception. Mass quantities of beer were consumed, and accompanied by generally rowdy behaviour. What I'm trying to say here is that I was quite intoxicated all day yesterday, and so couldn't bring myself to post an update. I deeply apologize to those who were expecting a new chapter. Here is one now :)

And to answer NighttohisDay: No this is _not_ the sequel to Last Guardians. That one is still in its early stages and not nearly ready for posting.

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><p>Chapter 15 – The Secrets of Fangorn<p>

Lucy ran for the dark trees that made up Fangorn Forest. It was what the orcs had called it. One they had spoken of with fear and trepidation. She stumbled into the shadows without looking back. She was hoping Livviah had escaped as well, but was too scared to turn back. She was shivering and crying uncontrollably. She stopped running just as she reached the forest. It was as if all sounds dulled among the trees. She flinched when cries and sounds of a tussle reached her ears.

She ran fifteen steps to her left and stopped. She found a large root to hide behind and peered out into the daylight. There she saw her brother. He was being attacked by the orcs. Only four, but those were high odds for an unarmed human. The tears fell down her cheeks and to stop herself from crying out she covered her mouth. Deep sobs filled the silence. Sadness and despair so profound that she was drowning in it.

Much later, wise men would consider the possibility that her sadness was the only reason the trees spared her life.

She crouched on the ground and watched as Edmund was carried away. Back towards the tower. She flinched when two orcs pointed towards Fangorn. She feared they might give chase. But a deep, growl rattled through the trees around her. The sound was carried on the wind along with dead leaves. As it cleared the forest and filtered into the open area, the orcs stopped in fear. They wouldn't follow unless someone physically drove them to. That forest was evil, they said. Lucy didn't think so, but she was much too preoccupied with worry for her brother to care for her own life.

She made a vow in the stillness around her. She _would_ save him. Even if she had to destroy all of Orthanc to do it. A strong wrath filled her. _How dare they!_ She stomped her foot in the ground and decided that she would find help. She would need it were she to do anything at all. Hadn't Esodhal said Edoras was only three day's walk from Isengard? But that meant leaving the safety of the forest, being caught and possibly eaten. And Edmund's sacrifice would have been in vain. No she had to believe Edmund would do his very best to stay alive until she could return.

Unless he didn't think she would? She had never told him, but she figured it was implied. The very reason she agreed to leave, knowing he might not be able to follow, was so that she could return with help. She made up her mind and turned away from Orthanc. In front of her lay a vast forest. A wild place. But she needed to find a way through it at all cost. Her brother's life depended upon it.

As she walked through the glumness alone, she began to feel a bit scared. As we all would under those circumstances. The trees seemed to almost breathe. Sometimes she swore she saw one move. It wasn't so much that they moved, but because of a lingering feeling in the air. One of anger. Of being watched. She ran her hand over the bark of one of the trees and looked into its crown. "What happened here?"

A flat wind seeped through the branches. It reminded her of the first time she had returned to Narnia. How silent everything had been. The trees had fallen asleep and no one even knew how to wake them. Perhaps she was meant to search for Aslan here as well? She looked in between the dark trees, scouting for a flash of yellow. But no. This time felt different than it had all those years ago. There was no Aslan in Middle-Earth. If there had been once, he was long gone.

The only hope was in her heart.

That was the gloomy disposition she had as she ventured deeper into the forest. She would have to do this with only the faith _she_ had left. She doubted very much help would come. Perhaps she would simply lose herself in these woods and wander there forever. The forest reminded her, in a way, of the Forest between Worlds that Professor Kirke had talked of often. There was the same stillness here as the one he had described.

She stepped over a root, careful not to crush it. She had a feeling the trees would disapprove. When she looked down she noticed her English shoes were in shambles. Three weeks worth of soot and sludge had all but ruined them. She padded the forest floor cautiously. It seemed smooth enough. Barely any leaves littered the ground and the soil was almost warm. She took them off and breathed a deep sigh of relief. It seemed the tree nearest to her sighed as well. She walked slowly among them, and began speaking to them after a while. Her siblings often accused her of rambling, but they weren't around to be bothered.

"So how old are you?" She ran a hand over another tree and almost felt it shiver. "You seem _old_." She wasn't sure if they would get offended by it, but wasn't quite sure she could call trees 'wise'. "I don't suppose there are any dryads or nymphs here?" A tree a bit away shivered and made its crown rustle. It reminded her of a dog shaking its fur. She smiled and walked in that direction. As she continued, she sensed the trees seemed to come more and more to life. They seemed a little more cheerful as well.

"As trees should be," she spoke into the air. A tree beside her reached down a branch as if offering her a hand. She took it and lightly hopped over a root. "Such a gentleman." She giggled when the tree twisted in a sort-of-bow.

Then she heard a voice. Distant. It sounded old, but kind. "Who's that?" she whispered to the tree next to her. It creaked, but couldn't answer of course. She crept around the trunk and stuck out her head. There she saw a man in white. He was talking to a tree – a dryad, she assumed – but unlike any she had ever seen. This dryad wasn't a tree or part of the tree. He didn't have hair that rustled like autumn leaves. No, this dryad was a tree and a man all at once. He had legs and arms and a face with real, gelatinous eyes. She gave a little start and drew the gaze of the human. The dryad seemed more or less oblivious and only turned when the man did.

"Who goes there?" His voice was authoritative and loud amongst the silence.

Lucy crept out from her hiding place. Her caution had always given way to curiosity much too easily for her siblings' liking. "Lucy. Lucy Pevensie." she called and stepped into plain view.

The man frowned and muttered the name softly to himself. "_Lucy. _Lucy_ Pevensie_. Have I met you before?"

Lucy shook her head. "I don't think so," She came closer. He seemed kind enough. Very old. Like a grandfather. "Have I met _you_?" She giggled when he smiled in delight.

"No," He moved away from the talking tree. "I would have remembered _you_."

Unsure of how to react, Lucy stopped and did a little curtsey. She wasn't aware of how filthy she was or how thin she looked. Her gaunt cheeks or the dark circles around her eyes. But the man seemed infinitely pleased with her manners.

He bowed in return. "Welcome, Lucy Pevensie, to Fangorn Forest."

She curtsied again.

The man gestured to the tree. "This is my good friend Treebeard."

"Hhhhhhhmmmm . . . Lovely to meet . . . you . . . hhhhhhhhmmmmm . . . Luuuuuuuciiieee Pevensiiiiiieeeee."

She giggled. "Lovely to meet you too," She curtsied to the tree. "Might I ask, Sir," She looked at the man. "Who are you?"

This seemed to bring a frown to his face. "I'm not quite sure," He glanced up at Treebeard who raised a bushy brow. "We were just discussing that when you arrived."

Lucy frowned and stepped closer. "Have you lost your memory?" Her heart immediately swelled with pity.

The man shook his head. "No. No my memory is still there – and more. But I seem to have lost my identity."

Lucy frowned and stepped closer. "Perhaps we could give you a name until you remember your own?"

The man leaned a little on his walking stick and frowned. "Perhaps. . ."

"Puuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrhaps . . . hhhhhhhhhhhmmmmm . . . . you aaaaare . . . an Ent?" Treebeard suggested.

Lucy giggled and wrinkled her forehead. "What's an Ent?"

Treebeard straightened to his full height. "_I_ . . . am an Ent." He placed a hand on his chest proudly.

Lucy smiled. "I think he's not quite tall enough to be an Ent."

"Hmmm?" Treebeard arched another bushy brow and looked back down at the man. "Perhhhhhhhhhhhhaps . . . not."

The man was smiling. "What would _you_ say I am?"

Lucy pretended to think as she walked around him in a little circle. "I would say you were a human being."

"Like yourself?"

"Yes,"

The man smiled. "Very well. What shall we call me? What is a typical human name?"

This meant Lucy really _did_ have to think. "Well that depends on which world you're from," She smiled at her own joke, but sobered when it became clear neither the Ent nor the man understood it. "A name from _my_ world could be Paul. That's my father's name."

The man muttered the name slowly to himself. "_Paul_. Yes. I think I like 'Paul'." He smiled and Lucy sent him a radiant one of her own. "Thank you, Lucy."

She blushed. "It was no trouble."

Treebeard seemed completely lost to the finer points of the conversation, but his next words were still rather wise for such a bushy looking creature. "Hhhhhhhhmmmmm . . . Now that we have . . . your nnnnaaaame . . . what . . . puuuuurrrpossssse shall we givvvvee you?"

Lucy smiled. She felt she would never get over how adorable Treebeard sounded when he spoke. But he had a point. Her father had spoken of purpose before he left for war. Peter had discovered it was the reason they were all so lost after first returning from Narnia. They'd had a purpose in Narnia, but none in England. The only one with a purpose that transcended worlds was Edmund. _To protect his siblings_. "That's a very good question."

"Oh, I know my purpose," Paul answered calmly.

"What is it?" Lucy was instantly intrigued.

"To find Treebeard."

The Ent and Lucy shared a confused glance. "And do what?"

Paul leaned heavily on his walking stick again and gazed at the forest around him. "Speak with him."

"That's it?"

"Yyyyeeeeeesssss . . . He woke mehhh . . . hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmm . . . from a veeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrry lonnnnnnggg. . . nap."

"So you were sent here to wake Treebeard?"

Paul nodded and smiled. He seemed pleased with himself. Lucy frowned. How was that a purpose? A purpose was something longer. Something greater. A calling. Had his calling been to wake up an Ent?

"Noooowwwwwwwwwww I will have . . . hhhhhhhmmmmmmm . . . to find a nnnnnnnnnneeeeewwwwwwwww sleeping . . . sssspot."

Lucy now felt as if _she_ was left out of the conversation. "But there must be something more?" she asked Paul.

"Oh, indeed." He leaned back and swung the walking stick to his side. "There are many things that still need doing, but I haven't discovered them yet."

"When _will_ you discover them?"

Paul offered her his elbow and began walking in the direction Lucy had been going. "I suppose _they_ will come to _me_."

Treebeard began walking with them, but had to wait every other step since his legs were so long. Lucy felt desperation return. "Maybe you could help me save my brother?"

This made Paul's face fall. He looked at her with a deep sadness flowing from his expression. "I sensed there was something troubling you, young one." He frowned in concentration. "But I doubt my path leads to where you want me. Not yet."

Lucy shivered, and felt very close to crying again.

Paul wrapped his arm around her and tightened. "Don't worry, Lucy. He will find his _own_ way to see _you_."

A lonely tear fell from her eye and a squelched sob from her mouth.

"Shh shh, come now."

She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, and cried silently. They continued until nightfall. She cried until tiredness snuck over her. For some reason she believed Paul's words about her brother. Edmund _would_ find a way to escape. She had enough faith in him to believe that. She had a strangely high amount of faith in the stranger as well.

By nightfall Lucy felt ready to fall over. She was ravenously hungry and dizzy. As it turned out, Paul had supplies on him for far longer than he expected to stay in the forest. And, he confessed, he never really felt that hungry anymore. He offered Lucy to eat as much as she could. There were fruits, bread, salted meats and cheeses, and a skin of ale. It all tasted wonderfully to her so she ate until she couldn't anymore.

They had stopped next to a little pond where Lucy drank and washed up in privacy. She relished the feel of once again being clean, but felt bad, knowing Edmund wasn't. Probably wasn't full either. She scrubbed her clothes the best she could, but could only get a few of the stains out. When she returned to Paul and Treebeard, Paul offered her a walking-cloak.

She put it on and marveled at its size. "It fits me perfectly." She turned her astonished eyes to him. Treebeard did as well, though astonishment was a bit hard to pull off with a face made of wood.

"Lady Galadriel gave it to me before I left. I have two, but the second one is a little bigger. She also gave me a leather-vest and a skirt." He held them out as if a bit unsure what to do with them. Then he looked at Lucy. "I believe they are for _you_."

"For me? How could she know you would find me? _Who is_ Lady Galadriel?"

Paul smiled as Lucy studied the garments. They did indeed seem her size. "She is the queen of the forests of Lothlorien." He leaned back and pulled out a little whistle. "There she rules wisely and lovingly." He held out the whistle. "I think she also wanted me to give you this."

Lucy took the whistle and almost dropped the vest and skirt. "Why?"

Paul shrugged slowly. "She did not say." He settled a bit deeper into his resting place and shooed her on. "Go. See if they fit. Though I believe they will." He smiled as she skipped off with a confused frown.

As she crawled out of her old, ruined skirt and slipped into the new one, she sighed and almost smiled. The skirt; which was really a skirt _and_ a pair of tights, was from a finer fabric than the cloak, but still as warm. The tights were dark-brown leather. The skirt was a deep auburn color that offset her skin and hair brilliantly and split front, back and to the sides. Each slit went to her thigh and was embroidered with gold thread. Designed for moving and climbing through rough terrain.

The leather-vest was more a tunic of armor with a matching wrist- and elbow-guard. _Vambraces?_ She put them on, slipped the leather-hauberk over her dirtied shirt and buckled it in. It connected in a cross on her back and ran in two, broad bands over her shoulders. There it morphed into fitted and detailed pauldrons. On her chest it outlined her collarbone and accentuated her waist. It was done in beautiful, dark-brown leather as the tights. This was an archer's armor. She frowned and grabbed her soiled skirt from the ground. If nothing else she could use it as a pillow. The little whistle was tucked into an inlaid pocket of her skirt. They really _had_ thought of everything.

She smiled as she stepped back into the camp. Paul and Treebeard had started a small fire, though Treebeard seemed very disgruntled by this. Paul swore up and down that it wasn't Huorn wood and that no living trees had been harmed. Still, Treebeard seemed to take personal offense to the flames.

Lucy bounced in with a calm smile on her face. She felt like herself again. Not a little, lost girl anymore. Paul straightened with a wide smile. "There," He clapped his hands and spread them out. "_Now_ you look like a warrior."

She sat down and found that she still had amazing flexibility in her upper-body despite the leather. It really _was_ more like wearing a leather-vest. "I _feel_ better," She admitted.

"But you are not done." Paul reached into his little travel purse and pulled out a pair of boots.

She took them with a wide smile. Black leather with kneeguards and greaves. The metal was sparkling in the firelight. "What kind of metal is this?" She held up the boots for Paul to see.

"I believe it's Mithrill. It's very expensive and usually reserved for royalty." He smiled at her from across the fire. "Are you royalty, Lucy?"

Lucy was still smitten with all her new presents and quite oblivious to anything else. "Yes. My siblings and I once ruled an entire kingdom for sixteen years." She slid the first boot on and smiled even wider. It was inlaid with soft suede to protect her bare feet. It was as if, whoever had made these, knew exactly what she would need.

"I suspected as much," Paul said and returned his eyes to the fire.

She slipped on the other boot and curled her toes around the warm suede. "These are _truly_ amazing, Paul! Thank you!" She jumped from her seat and hugged him.

He seemed quite surprised, but quickly smiled and hugged her back. "Do not thank _me_, Dear One. I didn't foresee your needs. Someone else did."

"Oh," Lucy let go and suddenly remembered they were gifts from Galadriel – whoever she were, however she _knew_. "Well if you ever see her again, will you tell her '_thank_ you'?"

Paul chuckled. "I will."

"Good," She smiled and bounced back to her seat. She couldn't wipe the smile from her face, even in sleep. Not until the next morning would it disappear. It would be one night of sweet dreams before the pleasantness vanished. But it wasn't lost, nearly replaced with a steely determination. She _would_ see her brother again.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Her emotions fluctuate a lot in this one, and there's really no reason. It just seemed necessary. Thanks to everyone who's still reading. Thanks to all the reviewers :) You're all unique, little snowflakes and don't let anyone tell you different.


	16. Chapter 16: Chasing Orc

**Disclaimer:** *Looks for publishing rights to steal, only sees computerscreen with the words "make copy"* Damn...

**Author's Note:** Thanks for being.

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><p>Chapter 16 – Chasing Orc<p>

The company of five had been running for two and a half days when they spotted the first sign of life. Susan was ready to keel over from exhaustion. Who _ever_ decided women _had_ to wear skirts? They were cumbersome and heavy and _not_ meant for running. Peter, _of course_, was skipping over rocks like a goat. He had matched Aragorn and Legolas' pace since they set out.

Susan was huffing and puffing with Gimli at her back. The dwarf was about five meters behind and dragging more and more each minute. _Aslan_, she wasn't prepared for this! She was an _archer_, not a runner! But there was little else to do. She could have stopped, but that would have meant leaving the others and abandoning all hope of saving Merry and Pippin. She could have complained, but that would only hinder all of them.

No, she concluded, the only choice was to bite down and breathe through her nose. It wasn't as if a little running would kill her.

"Susan!" her brother called.

She growled low in her throat and headed towards him. He was on a hill, overlooking the plain. _Great. More space_, Susan thought. Why was he so anxious for her to see _that_? She stumbled to a stop at the top of the hill after nearly slipping. Only Peter's hand saved her from a face full of mud.

Peter was panting, but not nearly as hard as her. "Are you alright?"

_The little weasel has the audacity to smile!_ Susan was livid. "Yes." she bit out instead. She would give him the shouting of a lifetime once she could breathe without wheezing.

Peter was smart enough to realize he was getting into dangerous territory and wiped off the smile. "Aragorn thinks he hears something," he said with his head bowed and a weak gesture to where Aragorn and Legolas were perched on a rock, gazing over the plains.

Susan speared him with boiling glare. "For this- . . . I had to- . . . hurry?" She was panting, but not as harshly as a few minutes ago.

Peter shrugged and looked back up. _Play the innocent card, that'll get you back in her good graces_, Edmund's ever helpful voice supplied. "You look a bit tired." He widened his eyes and pouted.

"Oh shove it!" Susan pushed past him and grabbed an abandoned water skin Aragorn had probably left. Hers was empty. Behind her Peter smiled, but she was suddenly too preoccupied to notice.

"Hide!" Aragorn called just as Gimli cleared the crest of the hill. The ranger grabbed her arm without preamble and pulled her with him behind a large cliff. The other three quickly followed. The noise he had heard was the sound of nearly two-hundred and fifty, armored horses with armored riders, heading their way. "The riders of Rohan." he calmly explained.

Susan hated that he didn't sound the least bit breathless. "Who are they? I don't remember any delegates of Rohan at the Council in Rivendell."

"They never replied to Lord Elrond's messenger." Aragorn answered with a thoughtful look in his eye.

"What are you thinking?" Legolas asked, having seen the same look.

"We don't know if we can trust them, Aragorn." Gimli growled. He was still panting a little, Susan noted.

"I know," Aragorn said in a slow, deep voice.

"So what do you intend to do?" she asked. The riders passed their hide-out, and at that moment Aragorn made his decision.

He lunged out and stood on the very top of the hill. "Riders of Rohan! What news of the mark?"

_Oh course, shout at them. That won't seem antagonist at'all_, Susan thought. The captain signaled a turn and directed the two-hundred and fifty horses straight towards the ranger. Legolas was the first on his feet, closely followed by the others. Though not lining up a shot, Susan felt very exposed and uncomfortable stepping out like this. From what she could gather, Aragorn had no idea if they were friend or foe.

In an impressively short amount of time a circle of horses formed around the five friends. Spears were pointed towards them and all stopped. "What now?" Peter mumbled. He had his sword out. Susan had also drawn her bow and notched an arrow.

"Peace, my friends." Aragorn said as the captain dismounted and stepped forward. The Fellowship lowered their weapons reluctantly, but none put them away.

"What business does a dwarf, an elf, a girl and two men have in the Ridder-Mark?"

"I am _not_ a girl-"

"You give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine." Gimli puffed up like a proud peacock and interrupted Susan, trying to step in front of her at the same time.

"I would cut off your head, _dwarf_," he sneered. "If it stood but a little higher from the ground-"

"You would die before your stroke fell." Legolas had an arrow pointed neatly between the captain's eyes, only about five inches from him. Susan as well.

"Peace, friends," Aragorn repeated. They lowered their weapons again.

The leader eyed both archers and settled on Susan. "Why does a _woman_ travel with four men?" His expression clearly showed that he had already made up an answer. The way his eyes quickly scoured up and down her body make her shrink back before exploding.

Her mouth fell open. She didn't like what he was insinuating and even disliked his dismissal of her because of it. Her jaw clenched. "That is of _no_ concern to _you_, you bas-"

"Susan!" Peter forcefully stepped in between his sister and the captain and locked eyes with her. "Easy," She swayed to peer over his shoulder, and he swayed with her in an effort to make sure she didn't skirt around him. Everyone was on edge as it were and didn't need any added stress. To the captain he turned and said: "We come, searching for two of our friends,"

The captain looked like he agreed with Peter's show of authority and maybe even reveled in it a little. Susan simmered and reminded herself she could shoot an acorn, still on the branch, from five-hundred and thirty meters away.

"Two hobbits," Gimli interjected.

The captain made a frown every time Gimli spoke. In fact he seemed only to be looking at Peter and Aragorn with any kind of respect, while the rest were summarily dismissed. "We came across a company of Uruk-hai during the night," he nodded.

Suddenly Susan transformed from a temperamental, young woman, to a concerned queen. It was as if the shift in her made a wave billow through the gathered. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

The tense silence was washed away and replaced with concern for the beautiful, young woman and her friends. The captain almost looked ashamed. Peter had seen this many times. His sister had the ability to stop roaring armies with a single sigh if she wanted. He didn't think _she_ was aware of that, though.

"They would be small. Only children to your eyes." Aragorn leaned closer.

The captain shook his head and removed the helmet. "We left none alive."

Susan reacted by jolting and almost dropping her arrow. Peter reached out and steadied her. He now completely ignored the captain in favour of his sister. She was shaking and tears were dripping down her cheeks. "Shh, Susan, be still. Calm down," he whispered and cupped his hands around her head. His forehead came to rest against hers while his wide palms wiped the tears away. "They're alright. We'll find them." He suspected her concern wasn't entirely for the hobbits. Their deaths would only make it all so much more real. If the merry hobbits could be killed so mercilessly, what hope did Edmund and Lucy have?

"Peter-"

"Shh-hh. . ." He pulled her into a hug and pressed his cheek against hers. "I will find them. I _promise _you."

Susan sobbed once, but stopped shaking.

He could faintly hear Aragorn and the captain talking. Peter picked up the name Eomer, but didn't much care anymore. "They'll be alright. We'll find them." he whispered. He wasn't sure who he was referring to anymore, but it didn't matter. He would find all of them. _Make_ sure his sister never trembled like that again.

"I know," She whispered back and exhaled deeply. The next both Pevensies knew, hooves were pounding against the earth in departure. The army had left behind three horses from riders who had died during the night.

"We will find them, Susan." Legolas said softly and handed her brother the reins to a red horse. "This is Axis," Legolas patted the fiery fur and smiled. "These horses are strong and will take us there quickly.

Peter mounted Axis and helped his sister mount. Aragorn accepted the reins to Brego, formerly belonging to Prince Théodred, the son of the very king they would soon meet. Legolas mounted and helped Gimli onto the off-white horse, named Arod, they would share. Together they hurried towards the column of black smoke they could see rising in the distance.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Another one because you rock. TBC...


	17. Chapter 17: In the Presence of Wizards

**Disclaimer:** *Pushes glasses up nose* Alright, let's try this bitch again...

**Author's Note:** Did I mention you're awesome?

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><p>Chapter 17 – In the Presence of Wizards<p>

Edmund was on a heap on the ground. His head was swimming, and old –as well as new- aches were making themselves known. He groaned and regretted it the instant later. "Aslan . . ." he whimpered into the black marble floor and began shaking.

"Your _god_ is not here, Edmund." Saruman said and took a position in the centre of the room. It was an annex to the main tower and contained nothing more than a door and a small window high above the floor.

Saruman's dark voice had been a steady companion since his incarceration the day before. Most of the night, Edmund had been left to his own devices. But only after lengthy, and draining, conversations with the wizard. At first Saruman had seemed harmless, if not a little full of himself, but Edmund very quickly learned that he had underestimated him.

"Have you considered my offer?" His voice was calm, but Edmund could feel the vibrations in the air almost as if he was gearing up.

He flinched when he tried to move and was met with a stabbing pain through his skull. That was another thing that was making escape increasingly hard. Edmund wasn't locked inside the _room_. The door was left wide open for the most parts. There were no guards either. The only real problem was that Edmund couldn't seem to move without feeling like he was on fire. "Go to hell," He was locked in his own mind.

His taunts never incensed the wizard. Saruman never raised his voice or physically hurt Edmund. He reminded him of Jadis in that way. In all her glistening fury. "That's unfortunate."

The sound of someone biting into an apple.

And the third thing, Edmund grimily pondered, was that he hadn't eaten since his sister's escape. Not a bite of food or drop of water. Not a lot of sleep either. Whenever he had been about to nod off Saruman would appear. Every time, it started with an innocent question and accelerated to so much more.

"Please . . ." He sighed into the floor. He couldn't raise his voice above a whisper. "Leave me alone."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This one is short, but the next one will be here later today.


	18. Chapter 18: Long Walks in the Forest

**Disclaimer:** Never have, never will.

**AN:** As promised...

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><p>Chapter 18 – Long Walks in the Forest<p>

It was one day since her escape from Orthanc and Lucy's legs were aching. Not a bad ache, but enough to indicate that she had walked longer than she was used to. She, Paul and Treebeard had walked in silence most of the day. The reason silence had descended upon them was because Lucy learned that Paul was in fact a wizard. She had never met any wizards before, but in stories they were always evil. That had almost spurred her to run. But she hadn't.

Paul had been honest with her so far, so when he quietly said that _he_ was the "good kind" she believed him. After almost a full day of walking, Paul suddenly spoke up. "Ahh!" He looked around with a smile. "We have arrived."

Lucy took in their surroundings. It seemed to be no different from the rest of the forest, but _she_ was no magical sorcerer so what did she know? "What now?" she asked as she dumped her bag on the forest floor. She had offered to help carry some of the supplies for Paul, since he had so many with him.

He took a seat on a stub. "Now we wait." He pulled out his pipe and lit it.

Lucy sighed and sat down as well.

"Well if thissss . . . is our final destinationnnn . . . I guess I willlll . . . find somewhere to sleeeeep," Treebeard muttered and looked around.

"It's been a pleasure traveling with you, Treebeard," Lucy said politely.

"Likewise . . . hhhhhhmmmmm . . . Queen Lucy." Treebeard nodded and took off.

Lucy soon fell asleep as well. It was a brief, dreamless sleep. When she woke up there was a bright fire in front of her and Paul was sitting next to her with his lit pipe. "How long did I sleep?"

"Only a little while," he assured her.

She looked around and couldn't help wonder _why here_. "How long are we going to wait?"

"Only a few days," Paul looked at her to better gauge her reaction.

"A few _days_?" She stood up. "My brother could be dead a hundred times over by then!"

Paul pulled the pipe out of his mouth and looked at her. "Don't forget what I told you yesterday, Lucy. Edmund _will _find you-"

"Why can't I go look for him?" She was angry and felt she had a right to be.

Paul only sighed. "Things take time, little one-"

"Don't _call_ me 'little'!" She strode around the fire, breathing heavily. "I am a queen!" She whirled around on Paul. "I once commanded armies and had the love and loyalty of an entire _country_!"

"Yes," Paul didn't seem intimidated by her sudden change in person. "But here you are removed from all those things."

Her expression dulled as his words sank in. Sadness, and guilt over leaving Edmund, once again filled her. "I know,"

"Do you?" He quirked a brow. "_I_ wouldn't understand."

She sighed and sat down with a heavy thump. "It's not the first time I've had to adjust." She ran a hand over her forehead and felt closer to her true age than she had in years. In body she was only fifteen, but in reality she was in her early thirties.

Looking at Paul, she realized he knew this about her. But it was so hard to ignore her emotional responses to external impressions. The ambiguousness was so confusing at times. She had learned this once already. Flashes of a golden sun. Banners snapping in a strong eastern wind. The smell of salt in the air, and an unobstructed view of foreign ships as they cast anchor. One day in Narnia, not long before she and her siblings fell back into England, she had looked back upon her life. It had been one of few moments where she had taken time to reflect. Since the beginning of her reign her life had been marked by actions. _Thoughts_ were Edmund's speciality. By then she'd had very little memory left of England. She had thanked Aslan for the gift of growing up in His blessed country. Looking back once again, it occurred to her that she had lost track of the blessings she received there.

An escalated life to be sure, but a sheltered one as well in some ways. She looked back up at Paul. "I suppose I forget sometimes."

He nodded and puffed his pipe. "We all do, Lucy." He leaned back. "I only ask that you have patience and trust me."

She couldn't find her voice, so she just nodded. Later, she settled back and fell asleep again, but what she perceived as her own shortcomings were not forgotten. Her childish behaviour and her guilt over leaving Edmund hardened her. Three days passed while they waited in the forest. Lucy took long walks around their camp and spoke to the trees. They still didn't answer her, but for some reason she felt like they listened.

On the fourth day she was leaning against Paul when loud stomps awoke her. She sat up straight and looked into the glumness. "What's wrong?" Flames from last night's fire were flickering at their feet.

Paul smiled. "It would appear our wait is over." He had put away his pipe and pulled a grey traveling cloak over his white one. "Friends are approaching." He stood and offered her a hand.

She stood next to him and watched as Treebeard stomped into the clearing with two, squirming creatures in his hands. They looked like children. "Who are they?" she leaned in and whispered.

Paul smiled wider. "These are Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. They're hobbits of the Shire."

She frowned. "What's the Shire?"

"The birthplace of all hobbits. A place where a warm sun always glows and where merriment is ever close by."

She relaxed. That didn't sound too bad. Twin cries sounded when the hobbits were unceremoniously plonkered down before Paul's and her feet. "Welcome friends." he said in a kind voice.

The hobbits looked up. First in fear, then with undaunted surprise as they realized who was before them. "Gandalf?" the blonde one asked.

Lucy frowned and looked at Paul. He frowned in thought. "Yes," It was a low, settled hum of contentment.

She smiled. "Is that your real name?"

"Who's _she_?" the red-headed one asked. He had the hint of a Scottish accent.

Lucy smiled and kneeled to assist both to their feet. "I am Queen Lucy the Valiant." she answered with a smile. "Are you Meriadoc and Peregrin?"

"You may call them Merry and Pippin." Paul – or _Gandalf_ – answered.

Both nodded and then the blond one frowned. "You're not Susan and Peter's sister, are you?"

Lucy felt her chest close as air froze in her lungs. "Yes," she whispered breathlessly. "Are they _here_? Are they alright?"

Merry – as the blonde one was called – nodded. "I think so." In all honesty he didn't really know if his friends were even still alive, but Pippin seemed to think that they were coming to rescue them. Pippin was usually right about these things and almost seemed to possess a sixth sense. Even _if_ Merry was loathed to admit it.

Lucy then smiled brilliantly. She turned to Gandalf. "Was _this_ why you brought me here?" Her body could barely contain her enthusiasm.

Gandalf nodded sagely. "It had something to do with it, yes. Though it will be a while before you are reunited with them."

Her face fell. "Why?"

Gandalf hurried to put a hand on her shoulder. "Worry not, my child. It will be your own decision,"

This made the Valiant queen frown. Why would she choose to leave her siblings?

"We thought you were dead, Gandalf," Pippin said with an awestruck look. The two hobbits seemed unable to understand anything beyond the fact that their dear friend had risen from death.

Gandalf smiled. "Perhaps I was," He sat back down on the stub and the hobbits immediately followed his example. The startling and unexpected arrival somehow transformed to a picnic in three second's time. Treebeard seemed to prepare himself for a long wait as well, though nothing noticeably changed. It was more how he suddenly sagged a little, though such a thing was hard for a creature of wood to pull off. He seemed slightly rattled at having been woken so soon after going to sleep. "I was tested against the Balrog and pursued it to the highest peak of the mountain," Gandalf leaned over his cane. Lucy sat down as well. "And almost died, but came back."

"Or you were _sent_, perhaps?" she suggested.

Gandalf smiled, as if fully understanding her meaning. "Yes, very possible."

"But why?" Merry asked.

"To meet you here," Gandalf swung his arms out grandly. "To meet you in the Old Forest and make sure you met Treebeard as well."

"Well that was fortunate. We would've died if Treebeard hadn't saved us," Merry said offhandedly.

Lucy blanched. "So Gandalf was sent here to get Treebeard," She turned slowly to face Gandalf. "And Treebeard was sent to help them survive?" The wizard nodded. "Survive _what_, exactly?"

Merry brightened a tiny bit at the chance to tell their story, and found Lucy to be an easily captivated audience. "We were kidnapped by Uruk-hai and taken to Isengard. But then all these humans attacked during the night and we managed to escape-"

"Right, but an _orc_ followed!" Pippin interrupted.

"I thought you said Uruk-hai?" Lucy could feel her blood pumping a little faster at the mere mention of those bloodthirsty creatures.

"Yes, but they came across a group of orcs on their way to Saruman, and started arguing over whether to eat us or not." Merry clarified. "But then those men attacked-"

"Eomer of Rohan." Gandalf said sadly. "His uncle, the king, is under great duress and isn't even awake to see it. He has taken ill and during his disease, Saruman has used one of his spies to influence the king. I must go there next."

All stared at him a moment, but it was Pippin who first spoke up. "You're taking us to Rohan?"

Gandalf smiled. "No, master hobbit. You and Merry must make your way deeper into Fangorn with the help of Treebeard here. Lucy must decide who she will follow," He glanced at her seriously, before looking back at Merry. "But please continue."

"Well, after they attacked, me and Pip managed to cut ourselves free and escape into the forest. But we were followed by this one, _really _nasty orc. But it's alright, he's dead. Treebeard stomped on him."

"He almost stomped on us _too_," Pippin said with wide eyes.

Lucy was no longer lending her full attention to the story. "What do you mean I have to choose?" she asked Gandalf.

The wizard looked at her through grave eyes. "Your siblings, Peter and Susan will come to Edoras. They will follow Merry and Pippin's trail into this forest. Here I will remain until they do so. I will take them to Edoras to speak with the king, and hopefully salvage what can be salvaged."

"And what should I do?" Lucy asked.

"Your brother Edmund, sits in the high tower of Isengard, but not for long. He will have his chance at escape and he will take it."

Lucy sighed in relief. "So I should go there and meet him?"

Gandalf was staring into the flames with a strange longing. "You would not find _him._ What awaits you in Isengard is more than the bonds of blood and brotherhood. At Isengard sits a family you know well. Their youngest daughter has made it Edoras two days ago," Lucy smiled when she recognized who Gandalf was referring to. "But should Merry and Pippin succeed with their endeavor-"

"Wha' endeavor?"

". . . that family – and many others – will die." Gandalf looked at her with sadness. He already knew she was noble and brave, but doubted she could choose strangers over her own kin. Doubted she was ready to make such a decision.

But Lucy surprised him. "What can _I_ do against all the orcs and Uruk-hai in Orthanc?"

"The armies of which you speak are preparing to march and destroy Rohan. This is why I must take the Fellowship there when they arrive. When you arrive in Isengard there will only be the black-smiths and slaves left. Saruman will sit in his tower and not dare venture out, should you instigate a rebellion."

"A _rebellion_?" she asked in shock.

"You sang during yours and Edmund's time in captivity, did you not?" Gandalf arched a brow.

_How did he know? _She had only done it once or twice to get Edmund to sleep. "Yes."

"That lullaby brought light back into the hearts of many. They sang lullabies of their own and now hope has been rekindled."

"Because of _my_ song?" She found that very hard to believe.

"Not only the song, but because _you_ sang it. They now long for freedom more than they ever have." He smiled. "It will not be hard to breathe life into the flames,"

Lucy almost felt a fire rekindle within _herself_ at those words. "So I should go to Isengard?" Her voice was a whisper, as if the very words said aloud, would turn the hope into dust.

"You should follow your heart, Dear One." In his voice there was an almost inaudible rumble. A deep sound, interlaced under his own. It was so low that Gandalf barely heard it himself. But he _felt_ it, as those around him felt it without knowing.

And those were the magic words if there ever were any. _Find me here, Dearest._ There was a reverberating growl in the bottom of Lucy's stomach and a sense of warmth as if a large paw had come to rest on her back. She suddenly felt hopeful again. Her spirit had rekindled and so would others'. She smiled victoriously and stood. "Will you tell my siblings something for me?" Without knowing why, she felt it was time to leave immediately. There was a strange, golden flash in her eyes and a roaring warmth in her chest.

It passed so quickly Gandalf would never be quite able to remember if it had even been there. "Anything."

"Tell them, 'For the Just and for Aslan'."

The wizard nodded and smiled.

Lucy knew those words made very little sense to him. But to Peter, Susan, Edmund and she, they were a war-cry. It signaled that Edmund was alright; that Lucy was going to war for him, and that she was alright as well. She smiled and picked up the bag of supplies. There was an obvious bounce in her step that had been missing since her escape.

"Do you remember the way?" Gandalf shouted, but she was already running and beyond his call. The trees swallowed her like they would a leaf in the wind.

"That was Queen Lucy?" Pippin chirped with a smile. "She reminds me of the elves. Legolas _mooves_ the same way without makin' any noise," He moved his arms to indicate walking.

Merry smiled and looked to Gandalf. "So what do _we _do?"

"You should stay with Treebeard," Gandalf looked up at the Ent for confirmation. "He will keep you safe." He rose suddenly as if something had stirred. "Now you should go. Make haste and gather the other Ents in the Clearing of the Sun."

Treebeard nodded. "I know of what you speak," He made a pensive humming noise. "It has been . . . a loonnnnnng time . . . since the Ents have gathered . . . hhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm . . . Time will tell, if we are _still_ . . . what we used to be." he said and reached down for the two hobbits.

"Don't struggle. Time is short and he will carry you there faster." Gandalf ensured and shooed both hobbits into the capable hands of the Ent. "Make haste and _remember_," He reached up for Pippin's jacket. "Though they may seem tired, not all of them are indifferent." He winked and glanced at Treebeard, who seemed gloriously oblivious.

Pippin frowned, not understanding a word of what Gandalf was telling him. But fortunately for all of Middle-Earth, understanding would come to Pippin at a time when it was most needed.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was a fun one to write. Hope it was as fun for you to read.


	19. Chapter 19: Meeting Gandalf

**Disclaimer:** I don't own, just borrow characters and put them through hell for the entertainment of others. Does that make me a sadist?

**Author's Note:** This is completely irrelevant to the story, but is anyone here a fan of Game of Thrones? :D Thanks for reading and reviewing. You're amazing.

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><p>Chapter 19 – Meeting Gandalf<p>

They had arrived to the carnage of the fire. Susan had been shaken to her core. The worst was the smell. Her worry for her siblings was now directly linked to the fate of Merry and Pippin. She needed to find them. _Now._

Within moments a patch of dirt drew Aragorn's attention like a moth to the flame. He followed the trail just as the others followed him. Crawling over the ground to make sure they didn't miss anything. They left their horses untied, but none of them cared for the consequences of that action. The hobbits seemed so close. It was almost as if Susan could _hear_ the ringing echoes of their laughter, calling her closer. She felt hope rising inside her like a lake being dammed.

They followed Aragorn and Legolas into the Forest of Fangorn. Her worry had turned to anticipation as they jogged through the dense trees. Legolas mentioned that the trees had feelings and voices. Gimli looked most uneasy, but Susan found it a pleasant change in scenery. Talking trees didn't scare her, not even angry ones. She had dealt with most disputes between the dryads in Narnia. She ran her hands lovingly over one of the trunks, but was pulled back by her brother.

"Let's not press our luck," he'd said with a weary glance at the tree.

She huffed and turned back to Aragorn and Legolas. Both were mumbling under their breaths with their backs turned. "There is something in the air," Legolas said gravely. And true enough, there was. A chill.

All suddenly stiffened and readied their weapons. It was almost as if the temperature around them dropped. As one they turned and lifted whatever weapons they brandished. But as it turned out, they needn't have bothered. Susan exhaled into the bright light. Gandalf stood before them, white and splendid. Susan was staring at him with tears in her eyes. "Gandalf?"

He reached down and placed a hand on the side of her face.

"You fell," Aragorn whispered. For a fully grown man he suddenly seemed very small. Gandalf placed a hand on his cheek as well.

"Through shadow and fire," Gandalf leaned on his staff. A new staff. A white one.

They all studied him in quiet awe. It was almost as if looking at a new man. His face was different. Somehow less burdened and yet graver. After a few exchanges and after welcoming Peter as the newest member of the Fellowship, all fell silent. Most were still staring aghast at Gandalf. Gimli wouldn't stop smiling. "It truly is good to see you, my friends." The wizard looked at all of them, including Peter, which Susan felt eternally grateful for. She was worried her brother felt a bit cut off from the group since Boromir's passing.

Suddenly, as if only remembering, Gandalf started. "Ahh," He smiled the warmest smile Susan had seen in ages. "I bring heartwarming news." He looked mainly at Susan and Peter as he uttered the next words. "I was not alone during the last part of my journey here. A young lady named Queen Lucy the Valiant accompanied me."

At this, both the Pevensies froze. Brilliant smiles lit up both their faces. "You've _seen_ her? She's alright?" Susan asked. She could feel fresh air fill her lungs as if breathing for the first time in ages.

Gandalf nodded, still smiling. "She joined me from Isengard where Edmund is still being held."

Then their joy seemed to evaporate into thin air. All color in Peter's face had vanished. "What?"

"With Saruman?" Susan's joy turned to horror.

Gandalf nodded seriously. "She explained to me how he helped her escape. Rest assured, she has gone back with the aid of friends to help him escape as well."

"Merry and Pippin?" Aragorn asked.

Gandalf nodded again. "They passed through here and are with Treebeard as we speak."

"But what about Edmund? If he's been captured. . ." Peter let the sentence hang in the air.

"He has, but will not be for long. And Lucy has her own role to play before she can be reunited with you. As does Edmund." Gandalf said.

Susan was shivering again. "We have to help them,"

"There's nothing that can be done for them now except _trust_ them." Gandalf wisely answered.

"I _do_ trust them, but if my brother's in trouble I have to help him." Peter maintained.

Gandalf shook his head and stepped closer to Peter and put a hand on his shoulder. "_Trust_ them, your majesty." The use of his royal title seemed to calm the eldest Pevensie. All the tension bled from his shoulders. "You will have all your siblings with you within a week." he promised.

Susan was still wavering on whether or not to venture into Isengard against Gandalf's wishes and find her siblings. Every inch of her wanted to hold both of them in her arms at that very moment.

"Patience, my queen. You risk more than you know by leaving now. Your presence will be needed for the next part of the journey."

"Which is what exactly?" Gimli asked.

"I don't yet know," His appearance lightened again. "Only that all of you are with me and should remain so. Our friends will come to us if we all have faith in them."

Susan was swaying where she stood, and Peter had suddenly fallen into a strange melancholic state. "Aslan always said to have faith," He said and looked at his sister. "I think I can keep it, and prove my love and loyalty to Him, if you are with me, Sister."

Susan noticed his courtly speech and marveled at how much it affected her. She leaned towards him and smiled. "For Aslan."

"Ahh," Gandalf said again. "Lucy asked me to relay a message to you, how stupid of me to forget," he muttered. "She told me to tell you: 'For the Just and for Aslan'." He looked curiously at both sovereigns and smiled when they suddenly did as well.

Susan looked at her brother with a renewed feeling of strength. His smile was brilliant. "For Aslan."

Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas looked at the Pevensies with smiles of their own. Their contagious courage was like the glowing warmth of the sun. "So where will we go now?" Legolas asked.

Gandalf's smile lit up his entire face. "To where we are most needed. One stage of our journey is over, another begins. Trouble stirs in Edoras. King Théoden has fallen ill and I fear no one there possess the strength to heal him."

"How far is Edoras?" Peter asked.

"A day and a half on horseback."

"We only have three horses," Legolas reminded everyone.

Gandalf's smile widened. "Not to worry," His voice was lighter than Susan had ever heard it. "I worry more for Merry and Pippin and the task set upon them."

"What task would that be?" Aragorn asked as they all slowly started heading out.

Gandalf gazed at the canopy above them all. "It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years,"

Both Susan and Peter felt a strange sense of déjà-vu, following Gandalf's eyes to the forest. It reminded them of their last visit to Narnia. How the trees had been awakened at the turn of the tides, just in time to win the war.

"The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche. Change we cannot imagine," His eyes rekindled and it seemed as if he was no longer speaking to _them_, but to the trees.

Aragorn sided up next to Gandalf and leaned towards him. "In one thing you have not changed, my old friend." he mumbled fondly.

Gandalf quirked a brow. "Oh? And how's that?"

"You still speak in riddles." He smirked and continued along the trail, leaving the wizard to his own quiet chuckles.

But the strange fire returned to Gandalf's eyes as he once again looked into the forest. "A thing is about to happen, that has not happened since the Eldar days. . ." He looked to Peter and Susan, almost as if seeing their memories of Narnia. "The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are _strong_."

Gimli shifted uneasily next to Susan. His axe hovered in front of him, and wavered at the slightest breeze. "Don't worry," she said. "The trees in Narnia were always very friendly if you were kind to _them_."

"Yes," Gandalf breathed into the cool air. Then he seemed to snap out of his thoughts and turned in Aragorn's direction to continue. "So _stop_ your fretting, master dwarf. The hobbits are quite safe. Safer than you are about to be," He called as he passed a wide tree.

Susan thought she heard another chuckle, but didn't bother to over think it. Instead she shared a smile with Peter and followed the ranger and the wizard.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> In case you haven't noticed, some of these chapters are slightly caricatured. I discovered that was sometimes the best solution for blending the two universes. To make light of the situation. So don't worry if you chuckle. The places you think are funny/strange are meant to be funny/strange. It's ok to laugh. I do. :)


	20. Chapter 20: Hall of Théoden King

**Disclaimer:** Grima, Théoden, Háma, Shadowfaxe and the members of the Fellowship belongs to Tolkien. The Pevensies belong to Lewis. Nim belongs to me :)

**Author's Note:** Introducing Théoden King!

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><p>Chapter 20 – Hall of Théoden King<p>

On a hill – surrounded by flat plains, in the center of a valley – lay the hall of Théoden. The King of Rohan. Mighty had he once been, but as of late a strange illness plagued the king. His lands were cold and a bitter wind blew through them. The lands, almost as if a reflection of the king himself, had been forgotten. The king's appearance was not that of his age, but rather of an old man. He appeared to be on the very brink of death though he had only seen about fifty winters. His white hair and milky eyes suggested he was twice that age.

In his hall sat a young woman, holding her uncle's hand, wishing feverishly that her brother was there. Eowyn, a former lady in waiting to the deceased queen, sat at the foot of her uncle's throne. "Will you not go to him?" Her voice was a meek whisper. Her parents had died while she was still young, leaving her uncle to care for her like a father. But months of neglect had reduced the once strong-willed woman to a quiet subordinate.

Her laughter rarely filled these dark halls anymore. As she asked her question, she already knew the answer, though the knowledge was not a comforting one. She rose and left the hall. Her chest heaved and her hands shook. They had been cold since her brother, Eomer had been banished. She stopped on the terrace, overlooking her city and the Great Plains beyond. A stiff wind was ripping through the valley that day as it did most days.

A flag was ripped from its shaft and propelled into the air. It flew on the frigid winds like a piece of cloth, and not the proud standard of Rohan. It drew her gaze to it as it fluttered through the air.

In the distance she saw five riders approaching.

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><p><strong>The day before…<strong>

They stepped into the open with a great exhale from the forest at their backs. Susan sighed with it and looked back. Though it was a dark forest, there was a strength there that reminded her of Narnia. She looked over at her brother who was looking in the same direction. She caught his eye and smiled.

"Our horses are still here," Legolas announced as he came pulling their three, borrowed steeds.

Aragorn gladly accepted Brego, and Axis bounced over to Peter with a soft whinny. "It appears Gandalf will have to ride with Aragorn." the elf said with his calm hands running over Arod's neck. He caught Susan's curious look and smiled. A sudden desire to share every detail with her arose. "I've renamed her." he said with a smile.

Instead of dismissing the relatively unimportant information she looked intrigued. "To what?" she asked.

"Ithilloth," He smiled when the mare whipped her head with another whinny. "It means Moonflower."

Susan smiled and scratched Ithilloth's poll, just between her ears. "It's beautiful."

"It's an unfitting name for a creature as ill-spirited as this," Gimli croaked. "You shouldn't get too close, Queen Susan. She might bite."

"She only bites _you_, Gimli." Legolas said with a smirk. The dwarf growled when Susan laughed.

"I have no need to ride with Aragorn." Gandalf spoke, as if he had only heard Legolas' first comment, and looked over the land. He pursed his lips and whistled. A shrill note changed to something deeper as it collapsed against the wind and boomed across the plains.

All the others stilled in awe. Suddenly two horses appeared on the horizon. One was the purest white and the other was sparkling silver. They approached with great speed. Almost as if they were ethereal creatures and not of blood and bone "Those are Maeras. Unless my eyes deceive me somehow." Legolas said in a reverent voice.

"Shadowfaxe." Gandalf said softly. The white horse stopped before him and nodded in greeting. "Master of horses. He has been my friend through many dangers." He ran his hand over its velvety muzzle. "And his daughter." He looked at Susan briefly and smiled.

"I already _have_ a horse," she said, referring to Axis.

"You are under no obligation to let her carry you," Gandalf answered. "But it appears she sensed our need as her father did. Her name is Nimzülae,"

The silver mare trotted over to Susan and bowed her head as Shadowfaxe had for Gandalf. Susan placed a delicate hand on her soft muzzle and nodded in return. She had learned long ago not to disregard animals. When one first accepted the concept of talking Animals it was hard to ever look upon another animal and _not_ think it talked. "Nimzülae," she whispered to the beautiful horse. "I would be honored if you would carry me?" Nimzülae nodded again, almost as if confirming Susan's question.

"You sure you're alright to ride bareback?" Peter asked with mixed concern and envy.

Susan rolled her eyes with her back to him. "I'm just as competent on a Horse as you are, Brother Dear."

"I could ride _her_ and you could ride Axis?" he suggested, allowing some of his admiration for the silver mare to shine through.

Susan turned to him with a surprised smile. "By the Lion. . . If I didn't know better I would call that envy in your voice?" She let out a trickling laugh when Peter blushed. Without waiting for a response she moved to Nimzülae's flank. The mare bowed down on one knee to allow her an easy mount and rose with the Gentle Queen on her back. "You've had _your_ magical steed. Now I think it's my turn." She smiled and turned Nimzülae around.

Her brother blushed deeper, but couldn't quite hide his smile. It was good to hear his sister laugh again and to see her smile. He only hoped her spirits would remain strong until their siblings were returned to them.

"What does she mean 'magical steed'?" Aragorn asked once all had mounted and were on their way.

Peter grinned when he saw his sister look back and flash a bright smile. "I rode a Unicorn to battle during our reign in Narnia."

"What's a unicorn?" Gimli asked from his spot behind Legolas on Ithilloth.

"A powerful creature, much like Shadowfaxe and Nimzülae. Only with a single, blue or ivory horn in their forehead. The strength of ten horses and the speed of an eagle in flight." He smiled. "His name was Stalon."

"And he had a coat _so_ white and a muzzle _so_ soft," Susan chirped in a sing-song voice. She sighed theatrically and batted her lashes at them.

"Oh shove it." Peter bit off with a smile.

That sent her off laughing wonderfully. Even Gandalf smiled and started laughing at her infectious mood. "I believe our luck remains strong," He smiled into the clean air. "How about a quick gallop?"

All shared inquiring looks with one another. Susan was the second to set off after Peter. The two raced across the plains with smiles plastered to their faces. Soon both were overtaken by Shadowfaxe and a wildly grinning Gandalf on his back. Susan laughed and spurred Nimzülae to go faster. The mare picked up speed as if she were flying and quickly outraced the remaining three horses.

So it went until late afternoon. Gandalf called for a halt and a good thing too. The horses ridden by Peter, Legolas, Aragorn, though spectacular and prime war-horses, were exhausted. But upon looking at Nim – as Susan affectionately called her – and Shadowfaxe they saw to their surprise that the horses had barely broken a sweat.

A fire was built and sleeping rolls unrolled. Peter, Susan and Gimli were asleep almost instantly. Peter on his side, facing Susan and Gimli on his back, snoring. Legolas had gone to scout the area and make sure there was no danger. Aragorn stood with Gandalf, watching a red glow in the east. "It's far too early for sunrise." he quietly said as he came to stand next to his old friend.

"That it is."

"What troubles you, Gandalf?"

The old wizard glanced at Aragorn and smirked. "You see much, my friend."

"I had good teachers." the ranger answered with a smirk of his own.

Gandalf smiled, but sobered. A somber expression fell over his face and his appearance darkened. "Worry for our friends, Aragorn. It gnaws at my stomach though everything I know is telling me to have faith. The ring bearer _will_ fulfill what he set out to do."

"That is good. Why do you still worry?"

"I fear a shadow is rising in the east. Darkness is slowly swallowing the lands of Gondor. I see it in my dreams – what very few I have," he added with a grin before he once again turned serious. "I fear Saruman will attack the people of Rohan sooner than anyone is prepared for." He glanced down at the two Maeras. "I feel the faith in my path wavering. Stumbling."

Aragorn frowned and turned to look at Gandalf. "Trust in us," he offered. "Trust not in what cannot be seen, but in those who walk beside you."

"Oh I do." He smiled warmly and glanced at his friend. "I have more faith in all of you than I have ever had in anyone in my life," He looked into the east. "And I have had a very long life. But, Aragorn," Here he looked at the ranger again. ". . .most of all, I have faith in _you_."

Aragorn paled a little.

"Sauron fears what you can become. He fears the power you possess and the inspiration you could give to your people." He took a deep breath. "This is why he will strike hard and fast at the world of men. He will strike first at Rohan and therein lays your first challenge. Rohan is weakened by king Théoden's illness. Their once proud nation has become a sparrow. You could hold it in your palm and witness its beauty, but if you were to squeeze even a little, it would be crushed."

"You do not honestly believe that?" Aragorn asked with dread in his voice. He didn't like the minimal amount of trust Gandalf seemed to have in king Théoden and even less, the high amount of trust he had in him.

"The king's mind is enslaved, Aragorn," Gandalf turned to him fully. "It's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over Théoden King is now very strong. Both lords are sitting in their towers and have begun tightening the noose. All but _one_ thing holds to our advantage," Gandalf raised a finger. "The Ring remains hidden." He smiled. "And that we should seek to destroy it has not entered their darkest dreams," His voice lowered as if he was telling a great tale.

"Is Frodo still safe?"

"He continues on his way to Mordor and Mount Doom. I have faith in that. I trust in him as we all should. Everything depends now upon the secrecy and speed of Frodo's quest."

Aragorn looked down and an indeterminable look crossed his eyes. "I should have stayed with him."

"Leaving Frodo was the right decision, Aragorn. He must finish this task alone."

"He's not alone. Sam went with him," he answered absently.

"Did he?" Gandalf smiled and turned his eyes towards the red horizon. "Did he indeed? Good," He hummed in the back of his mouth with pleasure. "Yes. Very good."

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><p>Early the next morning, the company of six set out towards Edoras. They made very good speed and arrived shortly after midday. The capitol of Rohan was silent as the grave. Only the wind could be heard as it ripped through thatch roofs and worn clothes. Susan sat high upon Nim and felt very self-conscious. The awkwardness came from feeling like a queen in a place not her home. She didn't want people to take too much notice of her here.<p>

As an archer, that need was deeply instilled within her. But during her reign it had slowly been overshadowed by the duties that came with her royal title. She knew Edmund felt as she, and that he as well had had to overcome the impulse to duck every time someone recognized him. She had just gotten used to being a girl again before she was thrust back into a new role.

"I am Háma, son of Halberith, and I cannot allow you before Théoden King so heavily armed," a guard announced as the six of them stepped onto the terrace before the doors. "By order of. . . Grima _Wormtongue_." Even though Háma seemed less than pleased with the order, twelve men stepped forward to claim their weapons. Susan doubted that they needed that many men to carry the weapons of six, but chose not to make a scene. It was probably just to scare them. She handed over her beautifully crafted bow with a sigh. She neglected to mention the dagger from Lady Galadriel, tucked away in her boot. But Háma was more observant than he seemed.

"Lady?"

She arched a brow. "Yes?"

"Surely you do not think that we would not suspect a woman of treachery?" Háma looked at her evenly.

"Sir," Susan smiled and did what she had perfected at the tender age of thirteen. "Surely you would not suspect me of engaging in hand to hand combat?" She tipped her head and widened her eyes. "Being a _woman_ and all," She felt Peter inch closer to her side and saw Háma stand down.

Instead he turned to Gandalf and cleared his throat. "Your staff." he said.

Gandalf acted surprised and leaned a little more heavily on the staff. "You wouldn't part an old man with his walking stick?"

Háma glanced from Gandalf to Susan to Legolas. Both were standing on either side of the wizard with pitiful expressions. Letting loose a deep sigh Háma allowed them to enter.

"Ahh, thank you." Gandalf said. Susan and Legolas grabbed an arm and made a show of supporting the old man through the door. All three of them missed the smirk Peter and Aragorn sent one another upon entering.

Inside there was barely any light and a smell worse than anything Susan could ever remember smelling. It was sweet and mixed with a stench of disease. Though none, save her and Peter, seemed bothered by it. She instinctively moved closer to her brother. People were moving along the sides of the hall, partially hidden by the shadows. Their eyes were following their strange, new guests with more than curiosity.

"Hail, Théoden King!" Gandalf called.

A slimy character leaned in next to the king and whispered something in his ear. No one answered the greeting. Having been raised into royalty herself, Susan found the behavior despicable.

"The hospitality of the king's hall has somewhat lessened as of late." Gandalf spoke in a loud voice.

The slimy character next to the throne leaned in and whispered to the king again. "Why should we welcome _you_, Gandalf Scarecrow?" King Théoden asked.

Susan was surprised his voice sounded so loud. He seemed on the brink of death, if not beyond. The slimy character, she pegged as Grima, stepped forward. "Ill news is an ill guest. _Lathspell_, I name him!" he spat out.

Susan frowned and shifted anxiously when the king's men started circling the Fellowship.

"Silence, Wormtongue!" Gandalf whipped out his staff which had been partially hidden until now. "I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless _worm_."

They all saw Grima's face fall. "The staff! I _told_ you to get the staff!" He scurried away quickly just as his men attacked.

Susan was pushed in between Aragorn and Peter as the king's men continuously tried to get to Gandalf. She turned her back to the wizard as his last line of defense. Though she dearly hoped no one would get that far. She had meant what she said. She was not a fighter.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey." the king taunted.

Susan saw the armed soldiers of the king fall one after the other. Gandalf seemed not to notice anything around him as he whipped the staff towards the king. Théoden fell back with a snap against his throne. "I will _draw_ you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." His voice was dead silent and a near whisper.

Susan flinched when one man slipped through the ring of defense around her. He stopped directly in front of her and paused only a second. Then he whipped out and caught her hand. He pulled her in and tried to pin her arms down. In a desperate attempt at freedom, Susan brought up her knee to the man's groin. He made a breathless noise and stumbled back. Behind him Peter came up and knocked him out before returning to the scuffle. _He_ was in his element, Susan realized. Peter had made it a hobby of his of getting into fights back in England. The smallest things had set him off and it seemed that all that brawling was finally being put to good use.

Théoden laughed insanely and didn't appear the least bit intimidated. Susan's breath quickened. There was a strange electricity in the air. One she hadn't felt before. All around her she saw men fighting. Her companions were winning, as was Gandalf.

"I _release_ you from this spell," the wizard whispered into the air. Théoden fell back against his seat again and clung to it.

"If I leave Théoden _dies_." The threat was hissed into the dank air.

Susan noticed Háma had begun pulling his men back. All were watching as Gandalf suddenly flung his grey cloak off. An otherworldly glow emanated from him in a way Susan had only ever seen few times before. Always in Aslan.

"_Release_ him!" Gandalf ordered. His whispers were gone and his voice boomed towards the possessed king with the might of a tidal wave. With a quick blow to the head, the tension in the air seemed to lift. Théoden slammed his head against the throne one last time before he half closed his eyes and sagged in his seat.

A young, blond woman ran towards the dazed king and offered him a hand. "My lord?" The king blinked and looked ready to faint. "Uncle?" she whispered with so much feeling Susan almost wept. She sounded so lost.

All were watching Théoden. There was complete silence in the hall until the faint sound of weeping reached Susan's ears. It was Grima, caught under Gimli's foot. Susan sneered at the lowly man and turned her attention to the other occupants of the hall. All were either watching the king or the Fellowship.

"Gandalf?" The king's voice was a whimper at best.

"Breathe the free air again, my friend." The wizard smiled and allowed Háma to approach his king.

Théoden looked years younger already. His hair turned a glorious red and his eyes came back to life as he looked around. His back straightened and he drew a deep breath. It was truly as if he was breathing again for the first time in a long time. Susan smiled slightly.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," Théoden spoke as he looked around. He was holding onto his niece's hand like a lifeline. She was smiling brightly at her king and uncle. He flexed his free hand and looked at the appendage questioningly.

"Your fingers would remember their strength better if they were to grasp your sword."

A sword was handed to him. He slowly reached out. First, simply touching, then grasping with the desire of a thirsting man, reaching for water in the desert. Peter recognized the feeling quite well and smiled. It was a good feeling. "What ill fate befell me?" the king asked of the wizard.

Gandalf's face saddened. "Saruman." Nothing more needed to be said for the king to understand. First a look of loss passed over his face, but then came anger.

"Where is the coward who bewitched me so?" His voice was a low growl.

Susan glanced at Grima and almost felt sorry for the shady man. Almost.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thanks for still reading and (hopefully) enjoying.


	21. Chapter 21: The Tower of Darkness

**Disclaimer:** Read previous

**Author's Note:** This one was hell to write. Enjoy. :)

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><p>Chapter 21 – The Tower of Darkness<p>

Edmund sighed and allowed his tears to cool his cheeks. An orc named Saga had just visited him. Four of his friends as well. Edmund was still shivering in sheer panic over nearly being eaten. The orcs came every other night or so when the wizard was out. They came under the cover of darkness and stole his blood.

That night four orcs had visited him with a small knife and a leather skin. "We just wan' a little sip," one of them had drawled.

Edmund could barely move and had scrambled to a corner. His limbs were shaking. He hated it. He hated feeling weak and exploited, but could do little to stop it. That's not to say he didn't try. He kicked and cried out as loud as he could just before one orc clamped a filthy hand over his mouth. He whimpered as one grabbed him from behind and pressed him against itself. He struggled as another pulled out a small, sharp blade and reopened an old wound at his hip.

It was hidden under his shirt, by the hem of his pants, so the dark slacks would disguise the blood. They had reopened the wound and one of them had leaned down and licked it. Edmund's skin crawled and he had let out an involuntary whimper. He was shaking and twitching to try and wriggle away from the horridness of it all.

They did this almost every night. Snuck in, pinned him down and opened a small vein. They claimed his blood tasted better than others'. But they only took a little. They let it bleed into the leather skin until they deemed they had enough. Edmund had also quickly figured out that Saruman knew about this obsession of theirs. One day Edmund told him. It had been at the beginning of another interview, before Edmund had been exposed to the wickedness of Saruman's mind.

But the wizard had simply chuckled and left. He returned with three orc heads and slapped them onto the floor of Edmund's "chamber" before he left again. He calmly explained that the beasts had been taken care of, but Edmund knew he was lying. The next night, four more came. They bled him and taunted him before they left. They never stayed for more than half an hour, but with every passing night he feared it more.

It was wearing him down. The blood loss, though not profound, was enough to make him tired and weak. Coupled with very irregular sleep-patterns and hardly any food, Edmund could barely fight back.

The only consistent thoughts were of escape. It was always on his mind. He was sure he _would_ escape. Just not _when_. He was sure Lucy would come for him if he didn't find a way out himself, which meant he had to find one before she came looking. There was no way in hell he would risk her getting caught and undergoing the same treatment he had for the past week.

He was almost sure it was a week, give or take a day. He slept most of the time anyway. At first he had been so concerned with escaping he had been trying to stay awake for longer than his body could handle. Then after two and a half days he finally passed out. He slept for almost a whole day and was haunted by strange dreams all the while. Fiery eyes and monsters. Old men who looked nice on the outside, but were as rotten inside as that apple he once bit into on midsummer's eve.

Since then, he had slept too much. The dizzying shift from not sleeping at all to sleeping twenty hours of the day had made him lose track of time completely. That day, the eighth day in his prison cell, Saruman visited him again. "I trust you slept enough?" The wizard had noticed his sleeping pattern and, Edmund was sure, was the prime cause of it.

He glared at him from his spot in the corner.

Saruman smirked and walked further into the room.

"Why are you keeping me here?" Edmund's voice was worn, but he still tried to sound neutral.

"You have asked me that many times now,"

"And you have still to give me a satisfactory answer." Edmund tried to keep his voice dull as he glared up at the White Wizard.

Saruman seemed to consider. "I have kept you here, Edmund, because your mind interests me."

Edmund sighed and tried to disguise the sudden rush of sadness with a huff. Why was this always happening to him? Not this particular situation, but he had a tendency to attract attention from the worst sorts.

"The day you helped your sister escape, you brought attention to yourself, but I assume you know this?"

Ed didn't answer. He had found a chink in the polished wall and was staring intently at it.

"Perhaps you expected an expedient trial?"

Edmund was doing his very best not to rise to the curiosity to glance at the wizard. He knew where the conversation would lead. Where it always led.

"What are the names of your siblings?" Saruman tilted his head. "How did you get here, Edmund?" His voice was still soft and probing. Not yet the burning scythe it would become.

"I walked." He folded his hands when they began to shake.

Saruman sighed. "Why do you fight me?"

"Because I. Don't. _Like_. You." He turned his eyes to Saruman and hated the smile that creased the man's face. Edmund was trying to keep frightened and tired tears at bay, but barely succeeding.

"Haven't you learned by now that it does not matter what _you_ want?"

Edmund glanced at the rotting orc heads in the corner and scooted closer to the wall.

"You _will_ show me." Saruman jutted out his hand. His fingers resembled claws.

A sharp pain flared up Edmund's spine and his back arched off the wall. "Please. . ." He shook as the pain crept from his spine to his skull. "P-Please, don't. . ."

Saruman's hand began shaking and a greedy expression came over him. "You will _show_ _me_ everything."

"No!" He flinched when the pain went into his skull and images started flashing behind closed lids. He could feel the cold floor and the burning pain all at once, and it was wreaking havoc with his brain. He saw himself as a young boy, fighting with his family. After his father had left for the war. He saw himself go to Professor Kirke's. He watched as a younger version of himself followed Lucy through the Wardrobe- "Stop!" He flinched back and let out an earsplitting scream. He wouldn't let Saruman see what he so desperately wanted.

"Why did he choose _you_?" His voice was venomous and jealous.

Edmund curled in on himself with a groan, but the wizard wasn't done. More pain lanced through his body as if it was on fire. He screamed again. Saruman's fire dug deeper into his memories. He saw flashes of Narnia. The first few years after being crowned. Later, when he finally learned to let go of his guilt. Later still, when he _became_ the Just King, not just by name, but by action as well.

"Show me everything," Saruman whispered.

Edmund saw flashes of the troubles he and his brother had faced. He saw the wars and the darkness, but the worst parts were the happy memories. The way he knew Saruman was watching them, was worse than seeing all the horror and darkness. Because those memories were _private_. His and his family's alone. Not for some _wizard_ to use against him. "No. . ." he whimpered into the floor.

But then something happened. Saruman suddenly stopped. He lowered his hand and turned when an orc appeared at the door. "The army is ready, my Lord." it said.

Edmund was on his stomach, panting. Fisting his hands and trying to wedge himself as far into the corner as he could.

"Good. Have the Warg riders left?"

"Yes. They left during the night as instructed, my Lord."

"Very well. Send Spang to me when they return." Saruman dismissed the orc and turned back to Edmund. "We're not finished," He stepped further into the room. "You will tell me what I want to know because it is the only option you have."

Edmund hated many things about the man before him. His kind face that hid his true nature. He had known too many men like that. He hated how well he articulated. How he was so unshakable in his belief that keeping Edmund was the right thing.

Those were just some of the many traits.

And the _only_ thing that comforted Edmund was how Saruman was able to view all of his memories, but not able to understand their context. He hadn't yet figured out what Ed's title was, only that he had_ been_ king. He didn't know his siblings' names. He didn't know Aslan. Edmund scoffed mentally. The idea that Saruman assumed Edmund was a _former king_. There were no such things as _former kings_. Once you were crowed, you remained king or queen until the end of days.

And right then and there, Edmund realized what Saruman's greatest weakness was. The wizard, for all his terrible power, was unable to imagine a life after death. He hadn't the imagination to draw conclusions from the flashes and images he pried from Edmund's mind. That discovery almost made him smile. He could probably _let_ Saruman see all he wanted and he still wouldn't know what to do with it.

"You asked me why I'm doing this to you?"

Edmund looked up, no longer feeling quite so terrified. Also the pain was lessening for the first time in days, and a strange sense of anticipation rose in him. As if something was about to happen.

"You are here because your appearance belittles your age. I see something truly confusing. Something I have never seen before, and I have seen more than you _ever_ will."

Edmund doubted that.

"Yours, is a state of being one cannot find, even in the elves." Saruman relaxed as if he was carrying on a civilized conversation. "One that exists in your siblings as well. And I want to know how it _works_," The greed slipped back into his voice and made Edmund draw back slightly. So immortality was what he thought he could dig out of his mind?

The wizard approached him with his hand out-stretched as if he could pluck Ed's thoughts from the air. But then, without any warning, he suddenly stopped. Some of the tension evaporated and he smiled. "They have arrived," He whispered and left the room without another word. The door to Edmund's chamber was left open as usual, but he still felt unable to get up. He watched as Saruman started mumbling. There was no one but the two in the whole tower. He seemed much more absorbed in whatever was happening, than he usually did in anything else. He was standing in front of a black orb, speaking with someone through it.

From his spot on the floor, Edmund stared up at the wizard. It was as if he was in a trance and completely oblivious to anything outside his daydream. He stood in the center of his tower and let a claw-like hand hover over the black orb. Edmund had seen this several times. Each time an orange glow came to life in the center of the ball. He didn't like it. Each time it was as if a dark voice filled the entire tower. A strange whisper.

The agony in Edmund's body had only just dropped to a dull throb when Saruman cried out in anger. He jolted when the wizard reeled back in shock, and then became downright furious. With a loud "No!" Saruman was catapulted back. A boom vibrated through the tower like an almighty growl. Saruman's head connected with the marble with a loud _crack_.

He froze. The wizard didn't get up. In fact he seemed quite unconscious. The near constant pain in Edmund's head lifted and he suddenly became able to move. He was sitting and about to stand when five guards burst through the doors.

Five Uruk-hai warriors. They gawked, first at the unconscious wizard, then at Edmund. "What did you do?" The voice of the one who spoke was like a hoarse growl.

Edmund scooted further into a corner. The movement made a dull ache flair up in his muscles. The Uruk-hai entered the chamber and stood in a circle around him.

One of them growled. With a sneer, it leaned down and grabbed his hair in a cruel grip. It yanked him to a kneeling stance, only inches from its putrid face. "You'll wish you were never born." it snarled.

Edmund was panting. "Please. I didn't do an-"

The first punch hit him the side of the face. Next a powerful kick to the ribs. And so on it went with abuse, far too violent to describe. I will say this though: Just as the lead Uruk-hai was about to pull out its dagger and use it on Edmund, Saruman awoke.

"Stop, you fools!" His booming voice was like a warped beacon of hope and Edmund sagged in relief. "He's not to be touched!"

The Uruk-hai pulled back. "We thought he attacked you, my Lord." It looked slightly confused.

Saruman viciously pushed the Uruk out of the way to get a good look at Edmund. He was lying in a heap on the floor. He had curled in on himself a while back and was only just beginning to uncurl.

"It seems your little _friends_ brought the help of an old friend of _mine_." Saruman hissed. His face was no longer serene as it had been. It now resembled that of a mad man. He wouldn't come near Edmund, though. "I _will_ get what's mine!" he hissed and slammed the door to the chamber.

Edmund was left in silence to fret over the torture to come, though he needn't have worried. The next day there was an almighty uproar. Saruman's angry voice drifted through the closed door several times. At one point he heard the wizard addressing someone in charge of the army. He ordered the troops to prepare for departure that same night towards something called Helms Deep. The general, probably an Uruk-hai, informed him that the army was too grand to pass through the gap between Fangorn and the Great Mountains, and that they would have to go around. Not realizing its specific importance, Edmund filed it away for later.

Saruman agreed in a sour voice and the tower fell silent again.

As evening light entered his chamber, Edmund was still feeling the pain from the beatings. His entire body ached so bad it hurt to move. The chill in the room had stiffened his muscles and made them almost immobile. The only positive thing to come of Saruman's outburst was the clarity in his mind. He felt as if the wizard's hold over him had somewhat lessened.

As the sky went from a glowing orange to light blue Edmund started a mocking count all his fortunes. He only made it to one before the door once again opened to reveal Saruman. The Just King prepared for another exploratory invasion of his obstinate mind, but froze when nothing happened. He straightened and looked up when someone blew through the tower doors. He frowned as the wizard turned to see who had interrupted him.

A hunched, dark-haired man entered and bowed. His meek voice pleaded with Saruman for mercy, but Saruman's body went rigid with anger. Edmund felt a little sorry for whoever had enraged him so, but was much too drained to seriously muster up any kind of concern. And the man looked a far cry from someone to spend energy pitying. He fell back against the floor with a sigh.

Saruman addressed Edmund before the servant could speak his first words. "It seems that my influence over King Théoden has been lifted." he sneered. He looked even more disheveled. "It also seems that my _trusted_ advisor has fled his post and has come running to me, crying for forgiveness. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this?"

Edmund almost huffed. _Why ever __would__ he?_

"The Warg riders have returned, my Lord, but only a handful still lives. Most of the men escaped to Helms Deep," It was the slimy man who spoke. The only human Edmund had seen to ally with Saruman.

The wizard hissed, completely forgetting his presence. "_What_?"

Edmund was surprised to find that he was able to pull himself to a seated position. He leaned heavily against the wall, his face was screwed up in pain, and he panted terribly, but he was still sitting.

"I-. . . I'm sorry, my Lord-"

"_Silence_, Grima!" Saruman flung out his hand.

Grima, as the black-haired man was obviously named, whimpered and fell back as if struck. Edmund then decided beyond any doubt that the man was not someone he should shed tears for. He had always been good at reading the intensions others, ever since Jadis. This man was every inch as bad as Saruman, if not worse. At least Saruman had the decency to be outright evil. This man didn't look brave enough to openly admit to anything.

"Your cowardly nature is as obvious to me as it was to that whore you called mother, the day she spat you out!"

Grima whimpered again.

Edmund found that the aches in his limbs from Saruman's torture were lessening with every heartbeat. The magic that had been inflicted upon him was being directed now towards Grima. Only the bruising from the beating persisted. Those were familiar aches. Pains he had lived and fought against on numerous occasions. Pains he could ignore. He could now flex his feet without any flaring pain. That in itself was an accomplishment. It meant Saruman's hold over him was slipping.

"You _disappoint_, Grima!" Saruman's voice sounded toxic as he advanced on the kneeling man.

"P-Please. . ." The servant was crying if the wobble in his voice was anything to go by. "I only did as you asked-"

"Silence!"

"Ahr!" Grima screamed. Edmund saw him recoil and knew what kind of pain the man was feeling. And yet he didn't feel sorry.

He gingerly pushed himself away from the wall and took a tentative step. He found his legs were working again. His eyes widened in surprise. He snuck to the edge of the chamber and looked into the main tower. Saruman had cornered Grima and was leering over him as the man screamed. Edmund drew a breath to find courage and stepped fully into the tower. To his surprise and cautious joy, Saruman had yet to notice that he was standing and moving towards the door. On his way he spotted the wizard's staff, leaning against a wall. He grabbed it and quietly hid it just behind the door of his chamber before he made a dash for the door. It wouldn't slow the wizard much, but it would have to be enough.

Then the unthinkable happened. The doors burst open to reveal three Uruk-hai. All three stopped in surprise when they entered and found Edmund directly in front of them. The irrational fear that had been driven into him by the wizard over the past days was still very much there, and Edmund felt his courage waver for a second. Then there was a loud roar in his mind. A deep voice spoke to him across time and space.

_Run!_

It was an order from Aslan, he realized. Never once having disobeyed his King he hurled himself at the closest Uruk with a war-cry. _Narnia!_ Saruman only now noticed the commotion, but was thoroughly unprepared to stop it. He saw his Uruk-hai engage in a brief fight with the boy. Edmund grabbed the rod from the felled Uruk. He felt an additional strength flow back into his limbs and forced the soldiers backwards out the door. Saruman shouted for them to stop him, but little could they do.

Unseen by him, the wizard made a mad dash for his staff, instinctively knowing where it was. But Edmund no longer cared. Because though he could not see his own eyes just then, he knew exactly what they looked like. _Blazing gold_. He felt strong. The rod swung in perfect arches left and right and knocked the Uruks further and further back. When his feet hit dirt he somehow knew he had won. Saruman had regained his staff and was coming to personally stop Edmund's escape, not knowing the boy had a much stronger force behind _him_.

Outside he was met by an army. Everyone was staring at the tower, as if unsure which way was up or down. _The horse, Edmund! Run!_ Another roar, carried forth on wind, made every beast tremble. Two horses stood a few feet from him. One was completely black and the other bay. The only horses he had seen since entering Orthanc, and it was as if Aslan's paws were pushing him forward. The bay horse was tied to a spike on the tower. He ripped it free and swung into the saddle.

The three Uruks had been beaten down and now lay in the dirt, dying. The remaining orcs and Uruk-hai in the immediate area stared at him in passing, as if not comprehending what was happening.

"The prisoner is escaping, you fools!" one orc roared. "Get 'im!"

Edmund only spent a second hesitating before he turned the horse around and sped for the gates. As he did, he heard a roar of anger from the tower and the dazed beasts awoke as one. The one who had shouted was calling out orders for others to take up pursuit until a deep voice boomed through the area, and stopped everyone once again. "No! There's no time! Prepare for departure NOW!"

Edmund didn't have to turn to know it was Saruman. The army was marching for war and one human, no matter how special, was not enough to stop preparations. He was out of Orthanc before the first orc could take up pursuit. And with no Wargs and no horses they had no way of catching him. Still, his heart pounded for fear that they would follow. But he needn't have worried. They didn't bother. His horse was too fast and Saruman had already called out new orders.

And even so, he didn't dare look back. He was afraid it was a dream. Afraid he would look back and see the black wall he had been staring into for days. He was free and saw no reason to curse his luck.

The wind on his face was like an embrace from a long forgotten friend and washed away any lingering fear. He thought only briefly of where to run. Before his escape he was determined to run into Fangorn and find his sister, but that seemed like the coward's solution now. Obviously Saruman was sending his army to find more humans. Sending it towards something called Helms Deep, if the orders he'd overheard were true. He knew he should have stayed and helped the other slaves escape, but that would have gotten him nowhere.

_No_. He needed to warn as many as people as possible in this Helms Deep that an army was marching out _tonight_. He spurred his horse on. It was devilishly fast. Almost as fast as his old Horse, Phillip. Same bay color as well, only a little darker. This was perhaps the reason he chose _it_ and not the black one – the one which was incidentally Grima's horse. Edmund looked down at its fluttering mane and smiled. He half expected it to speak.

And so, he rode for several hours till the sun vanished completely from the sky. But he wasn't worried. He had a horse. He had the light of the stars to guide his way. They lit they sky and as he gazed higher and thought of Lucy. _She is well, Dear One. Do not lose speed_. He snapped back to attention and leaned forward to spur the horse on. He headed due south, not knowing where else to run, and the horse seemed to _want _to go south. He had glanced into Fangorn upon leaving Isengard, but figured Lucy would have gone back in the direction they came after hiding in the forest. _She would have headed south_, he decided.

_She has to_.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>As some may notice this takes place around the time the previous chapter lets off - before AND after. This was part of the timeline that really blended my brain. I mucked it up more times than I can count and this was the closest I could get to making it all coherent. The next two or three chapters interlace with one another. They go from past to present in parallel timelines. Hope you can keep better track than I could. :)

Also, I'd like to introduce you all to a concept called _Deus Ex Machina_. Some of you know it, others don't. It's a tool (aptly named 'hand of God') I've used several times in this story. I can promise you I'll use it again because the Narnian Chronicles makes it so convenient. But I can also promise you I'll try to make it less obvious in the future. Thanks for reading. You're the reason we're all here.


	22. Chapter 22: Théoden's Curse Broken

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's Note:** It's so amazing to hear I can still thrill you twenty chapters into the story! You're all wonderful and I hope you know that. And to the Cretin: You've been so faithful throughout the story. Leaving inspiring reviews and words of encouragement. Thank you VERY much.

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><p>Chapter 22 – Théoden's Curse Broken<p>

A mere hour after Théoden had been released from his spell he had made his first poor decision. At least according to Peter. "He shouldn't be running at all!" he practically shouted at his sister. Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli and Gandalf were close, but not directly involved in the conversation.

"He's only doing what he thinks is best." Susan calmly argued. She saw that something about Théoden bothered her brother.

"What he _thinks_, is _wrong_." Peter argued heatedly.

"It's not our place to question a king," Gimli said.

Susan sent him a grateful smile for keeping his voice calm and not falling into the argument with Peter. But Peter saw it differently. "You forget who you're talking to, Master Dwarf."

"Peter!" Susan cut him off. When he finally looked into her eyes she saw his anger melt away. "And we're not rulers here anymore than we were in England. It's not _your_ place to decide what's best for a kingdom you know nothing about."

To his praise, Peter had the decency to look ashamed. "I can't believe you agree with him," he mumbled.

Susan sighed. When Peter became frustrated he had a tendency to see things very plainly. You were either with him or against him. It was the source of some of their biggest arguments over the years. "I'm not _agreeing_ with him, Peter." Susan rubbed her forehead when she felt a headache approaching.

Peter was still riled and pacing the room. "Gandalf, isn't there something you can do?"

The wizard looked as disgruntled as the boy, but was bearing it better. "I've spoken to the king and informed him of my position. I fear there's nothing more I can do to convince him."

"There _has_ to be something." Peter pleaded. He glanced at Aragorn. Though the heir did not speak against him, Peter knew he didn't like the king's decision either.

"The king has buried his son. Such things could cloud the mind of the strongest of men." he said instead.

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully. "There might be a way to aid the king should war find him in Helms Deep."

"Pray tell," Legolas asked in a deep, calm voice. He was perched on a dresser, like some sort of Ivy Dryad.

"There is hope with Eomer and the Rohirrim."

"The king abandoned them. Who's to say they will come?" Aragorn sounded like he was slowly losing hope. The more everyone kept telling him that chances were slim, the more he seemed to believe it.

"Perhaps if they received word from a wizard?" Gimli smiled with Gandalf. Sometimes it was as if the two, elderly gentlemen were of similar minds.

"Mayhap a little help from a queen would work in our favor as well?" Gandalf suggested.

All eyes turned to Susan. "How could _I_ help?"

"You've met Eomer before, yes?" Gandalf asked. He was leaning on his staff with a whimsical expression on his face.

"Yes, but I doubt he'd listen. He seems a bit of a. . ." She looked around the room and suddenly became very aware that all members present, besides herself, were male.

"A bit of a what?" Peter asked. He had finally deflated after having learned that his frustrations were shared.

"A bit of a male chauvinist." Susan blushed and fidgeted with a lock of her hair.

Peter huffed and smiled. "Chauvinist?"

"What is it?" Gimli asked.

Susan surrendered to the inevitable fate that she would now not only have to share her thoughts, but also explain them. "Men who feel superior to women."

Peter let out a chuckle. "You seemed to have won him over at the end there. He looked practically smitten."

"How could anyone dislike a person before meeting them?" Legolas asked from his ridiculously high perch. His feet were dangling over the edge. It was odd how he could look so stoic and yet so naïve.

If he started swinging his legs Susan knew she would have a very hard time taking him seriously. She rolled her eyes. "Well you assume all orcs are evil. What's the difference?"

"The orcs are a vicious race, Susan. You cannot compare them to women," Aragorn explained seriously.

"Except on certain days of the month," Peter fired off.

"Peter!" Susan's mouth fell open in shock.

He flinched and retreated to a spot behind Aragorn, who was now smiling. "Sorry."

"Regardless," Gandalf interrupted. His smile faded a little. "Your presence will far improve my chances in asking for his help."

"How so?" Legolas asked.

"There is a rumor that I bear a striking resemblance to Saruman," Gandalf seemed genuinely concerned with this.

"Surely they would never mistake you for _him_. Not once they spoke with you." Aragorn argued.

"If I were allowed a chance to speak at all. You saw how it went with Théoden. Things could have gone far worse, my friends."

A pensive silence fell which Susan was the first to break. "Well alright, I'll come with you." Gandalf smiled at her and she was just about to smile back when her brother interrupted.

"No." His voice was low and dangerous. "No. You're not running off on your own again."

"I've hardly a history of running off on my own," Susan smiled and tried to ignore the tense anger that had suddenly risen in her brother. "You must be confusing me with Edmund."

"No." He stepped forward, into the room. "I've _just_ found you," His eyes saddened and Susan took pity.

"Peter, I'm not needed here. If it's in my power to help, shouldn't I do so?" She stepped over to him and tilted her head before she took his hands in hers. "I think maybe it's my turn to have an adventure."

"What are you talking about? You've had plenty adventures-"

"Not like yours. Or Edmund's. Or Lucy's." She softened her face to a compassionate smile when she saw how confused her brother was. "Not in the same way."

Then understanding seemed to dawn on Peter and tears filled his eyes. "I can't lose you. Not when I finally found you,"

She pulled him into a hug and suddenly felt the strangest sense of role reversal. Not since Narnia had she held her older brother like this. "I _want_ to do this, but only with your blessing." She pulled back, acutely aware that every occupant of the room was staring at them. "Tell me you trust me to do this?"

Peter paled. "Off course."

She smiled. "And Gandalf will protect me," She gestured back and saw Peter glance at the wizard. Unseen by her, Gandalf nodded to Peter and smiled. "I'll be _fine_."

"Promise me you won't start arguing about trifles," He rounded his eyes and Susan was reminded of a much younger version of him.

She chuckled. "I'll try my very best. Promise me you won't rush headfirst into war without thinking."

He nodded and leaned his chin on her shoulder. She squeezed him again and pulled back. "And you have to swear you'll bring her back," He pointed to Gandalf.

Susan was about to admonish him, but the wizard just smiled and nodded. "You have my word, High King Peter."

At the sound of his royal title, Peter visibly calmed. Susan gave him a little shake and turned to Gandalf. "When do we depart?"

"As soon as you are ready."

"I'm ready now," She shrugged. All her things were in the main hall in a little bundle, just like the others'.

Gandalf turned and was followed by the other five. Peter held Susan's hand until they reached the stables. There Shadowfaxe and Nimzülae were waiting without restraints. They perked their ears when the Fellowship entered. Gandalf mounted. "Look for my coming at the first light of the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east." He spurred the horse on and sped out of the stables.

Susan hugged her brother one last time before she mounted Nim. She watched Peter's worried frown with one of her own. "If you happen to find any of our siblings, hang onto them." She smiled and moved the horse to the exit.

"Likewise," Peter said and flashed her his best attempt at a supporting smile as she galloped to catch up to Gandalf. He watched her go with a strong urge to grab Axis and follow them.

Aragorn slapped a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing, Peter. You should trust your sister more."

Peter frowned at his words. "I do, but I'm not sure you quite understand all that she's been through."

The ranger bowed his head. "Perhaps not," His voice was calm. He patted Peter's shoulder once more before leaving him to watch the two Maeras run off across the plains.

Inside Théoden's hall, people were bustling and preparing for the journey. When Peter finally entered he saw Aragorn crossing blades with the blond-haired woman from before. Eowyn as he had learned she was named. He crossed the hall and sat with Legolas and Gimli. "You worry for your siblings?" Legolas asked.

Peter glanced at him and nodded. "Can't help it," He smirked. "It's the lot of being the oldest."

Both Gimli and Legolas smiled sagely. Peter considered that they might also both have siblings. Younger _and_ older. He really didn't know much about them, but rather liked it that way. He had a bad habit of boxing people in, and boxes labeled 'younger sibling' or 'older sibling' sometimes did not do that person justice. "I'm certain she will succeed," Legolas appeared to be watching something in the distance only _he_ could see. "And that you will see your two youngest siblings again as well."

Peter sighed and pulled out his sword. "Aslan willing." He studied his new sword._ By the Lion_, he missed Rhindon.

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><p>Departure towards Helms Deep was made that same day around noon. They would arrive at about sunset. Peter was walking Axis. Gimli was sitting on Ithilloth on his own for once, while Legolas ran ahead of the party. Most were carrying on with small-talk and laughing.<p>

Peter smiled when Eowyn laughed. It was the most wonderful sound. Apparently Gimli had just said something very amusing to the young lady. Peter realized that was how he saw her. She looked to be about his age, if not a little older, but in years she was younger. He realized then, with a strange detachment, why he no longer had any interest in women his own age. He always found they were too young for him. He wanted someone his _own_ age. Someone his _real_ age. The epiphany kept him entertained for a few minutes until a call went out over the crowd.

"WARG!"

Suddenly all was chaos. Women screamed and children began crying. Men were shouting and everyone able, were galloping to the front of the group where the creatures had been spotted. Peter mounted and sided up next to Aragorn as they were pushing their horses to the front of the group.

"What are Wargs?"

"They're the size of a horse, but more similar to dogs or wolves," Aragorn called back. "They looked rigid, but move with surprising ease. Guard your flanks!"

Just then they saw at least a dozen of these so-called Wargs cresting the next hill in a gallop. Peter jerked Axis' reins in shock. They looked like werewulfs if he had to describe them. But orcs were riding them like horses. In his world, werewulfs would never have degraded themselves like that. He realized they were probably rather unintelligent since they were used as horses.

They moved about as fast as a horse and with far more flexibility. Aragorn was right. He saw one twist and rip the head of a Rohan knight in passing. Drawing his elven sword, and trying not to think of what he promised Susan, he gave a war cry and spurred Axis on. It was a war-horse and moved quickly, without much hesitation towards a chosen target. An orc had just un-horsed a knight and was moving his Warg over to bite his head off.

Peter spurred Axis and made him jump in front of the Warg, as he swung his sword. The creature jerked back, but not before it received a nasty gash to the head. Peter swung the sword and took off the head of the orc. With a quick thrust into the side, he killed the Warg.

It was about then the unthinkable happened. "Aragorn!" His cry was drowned out by the shouts and screams of the hillside. Just as he turned, he saw Aragorn tumble under a Warg and slip over the edge of a cliff. Peter kicked Axis into motion and headed for the edge. He saw Legolas descend on the orc who had ridden the Warg. It was now dying.

Peter hardly glanced back as he hurled himself off Axis and fell onto his stomach. Below him he saw a mighty river. A swirling vortex of water and foam. Legolas and Gimli quickly joined him. Both looked like they knew what had happened.

"He cannot. . ." Gimli whimpered.

Peter's eyes were watering with fear for Aragorn and the shock of the sudden fight. "He fell." Legolas said as if reliving a dreaded memory. The three men looked at each other. A moment passed between them where they felt a connection unlike any they had previously shared. Only king Théoden's order that all dead were to be left behind made them break their intense gaze. Peter didn't speak a word the rest of the way to Helms Deep.

When Gimli told Lady Eowyn, she cried.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> This one was rather short, but the next one will shed some more light on the events of this chapter and the previous.


	23. Chapter 23: The Tale of the Horse

**Disclaimer:** If you don't remember I will slap you!

**AN:** Another one because you're so great and because I know how nice it is to find fresh chapters of the stories you're reading. Oh and this was the first of my two favorite chapters in this story. Be warned: It stands apart.

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><p>Chapter 23 – The Tale of the Horse<p>

Brego was not a normal horse.

It was not because he was braver, stronger or smarter than any of the other Rohan horses. But something was special. He seemed to have an exceptional capability for loyalty that the other horses did not. Most war-horses only bonded with one rider in their whole lives, but Brego had lost his. For a span of time, he had been lost as well.

Simply following his heard because someone held his reins. He had eaten, but not tasted the delicious oats. He had drunk water, but not felt sated.

Then he received a new rider. One who reminded him a little of his old one. Another _kingling_. He knew kings when he carried them and _this_ man had been king as surely as Théodred. Only he was older and a little heavier, but Brego didn't really mind. He liked his new rider. Aragorn, was his name. He had a calm voice and warm hands. He felt hopeful again for the first time in weeks.

He still mourned the loss of his old rider – as a horse he could do nothing else – but the loss was not keeping him in a state of sadness any longer. Instead it made him determined. He would be the best horse Aragorn could ask for. He was already known for his smooth gait, fast reflexes and keen senses. But the trait in him that hadn't been taught, that hadn't been trained, was his loyalty.

So when Aragorn fell off a cliff, Brego felt as if he fell with him. A large dog knocked him on the side. The dogs had been frightfully scary. Large teeth and small eyes. Big noses. Brego had never much liked creatures with big noses. The riders had been scary too, but they didn't snap at his shanks when he ran.

He had dodged and moved as fluently as he could, but one of the dogs ran into him and knocked him over. Before he could whinny Aragorn had vanished. Brego had been beside himself with worry and searched everywhere. Then the old king said something – Brego had a very wide understanding of the human language for a horse. Where most only knew simple commands such as 'run', 'faster' or 'good horse' Brego was well versed in understanding most words. Not able to speak it himself, but he still felt that understanding alone gave him an edge. The command, uttered by the old king, made the other horses turn. Brego whinnied desperately for them to stop. Most of them did with curious looks back, but their riders spurred them on.

A white-maned man tried to lead Brego away by the reins. There was a short man with a long, red mane on his face and a young man with a mane the same color as Anthelia – a mare Brego knew very well. They tried to pull him with them, but he didn't want to.

Didn't they understand! Aragorn was his rider and horses _never_ left their riders. It was considered an extreme act of cowardice. But the white-haired one would not let go no matter how loud Brego shouted at him. But Brego was a smart horse. He knew that the humans probably couldn't understand his shouting, so instead he started pulling.

Then the one with hair like Anthelia spoke. Brego understood almost all the words and found he quite liked the expression on the young man's face. "If we let him go, do you think he'll find his way back to Aragorn?" He looked at the white-maned one.

"He's dead, lad." the red-maned one said.

"Dead or alive," the white-maned interrupted. "If there is a chance, should one of us not take it?" He looked straight at Brego.

Brego nodded and shouted "Aragorn! Aragorn! Aragorn!" as loud as he could, but wasn't sure they understood. It was so frustrating dealing with humans sometimes.

The three men looked at each other and then let him go. The white-maned one let the reins slip through his fingers, but not before he leaned his head against Brego's. He whispered words Brego had never heard before, but found strangely motivating. He whipped his head up in salute as the three humans rode off.

Then he turned to look over the battleground. Aragorn had fallen right. . . _there_! Brego ran over to the edge and saw a wide river. Aragorn must have fallen in. He spent a moment staring at it, trying to think which way the water was flowing. It was much trouble due to the fact that both his eyes were on opposite sides of his face and that he had very little depth-perception.

He was about to make his way down when he suddenly heard a voice. "Look at this!" It was not a kind voice and Brego jumped and ran. But suddenly there was rope around his legs. It twisted itself around them and made him fall. He looked up with wide, horrorstricken eyes. These were orcs! They _ate_ creatures like him! He bucked and fought all he could, but very little did it do.

They tied his two forelegs together and his hind-legs as well. That made walking, let along running, nearly impossible. He surrendered temporarily when they tied a large rope around his neck and into his bridle. Now he couldn't even buck without getting his teeth ripped out. This wasn't the first time he had met orcs, but it was the only time he had ever truly hated them.

He hung his head and followed, quietly hoping for a chance to escape before they ate him. They didn't walk for long. Only half a day or so. Brego perked his ears when a large, dark tower rose into the sky. As he was led closer, he saw many more orcs and Uruk-hai.

"What you got there, Spang?" an orc asked and liked its lips.

Brego shivered. "Spoils of war. Tell Saruman the attack was successful. We found the humans half way to Helms Deep and killed most of their soldiers."

Brego knew the orc was lying. _They_ were the ones who had suffered most. No rider of Rohan could be killed by measly orcs. He bristled and huffed.

"Tell 'im yourself." the other orc snapped.

Brego was led to the tower and tied down. The ropes around his legs were removed, but he was tied to a large spike instead. He sighed and lowered his head. It seemed there would be no escape for him now. He didn't fancy he'd like being eaten, but hated even more that he hadn't found Aragorn. He promised on his tail that if he should ever escape, he would do everything in his power to find his lost rider.

About an hour later, a man came galloping through Isengard on a black steed. He dismounted and tied the horse off next to Brego. He tried greeting, but the horse scoffed and turned the other way. Brego hung his head and prayed, for the second time that day, that escape would be close.

As if his prayer had been answered, a deep bellow echoed through all of Orthanc along with the sounds of a scuffle from within the tower. Three Uruk-hai emerged, all battling a boy half their size. All beasts around them froze. Brego as well. There was a howl of anger as the boy slew the beasts. It seemed to cast a spell on all the orcs and Uruk-hai. Brego wondered who had yelled, but was shocked out of his reverie when the boy grabbed his reins.

The boy, with a dark mane like Aragorn, jumped onto him. He looked skinny and pale and nothing like an orc. Despite this knowledge he still flinched a little when the human suddenly yanked his reins and turned him around. The human kicked Brego's side before the horse could fully comprehend what had happened. He was speeding out of Orthanc when it first dawned on him.

_His prayers had been heard!_ He whinnied proudly and gave an extra burst of speed when a faint smell of grass reached his nose. They sped along the borders of Fangorn and into the open plains of Rohan. In the middle of the night, after almost three hours of relentless riding, Brego spotted a river. It was a smaller cousin to the one that had swallowed Aragorn and he automatically altered his course to follow it.

The boy tried to stop him, but quickly gave in. Brego thought he could feel faint shivers running through the little human's body. He carried his new rider down the river. The boy dismounted and took a large drink of water. Brego did was well and managed to get a snip of grass under the pale moonlight. After a little rest the boy mounted and tried to turn the steed back to their previous trail. But no matter how hard he pulled, Brego refused to turn back. He was busy watching the current and dancing around nervously.

"What are you looking for?" The boy turned his own eyes to the river, but saw nothing.

After a few moments of quiet pondering, Brego sighed and allowed himself to be tapped back into a cautious trot. He found no signs of Aragorn, but perhaps a little further down river? The boy tried to guide him away from the riverbank again, but Brego refused to stray too far from the water. He knew that the human was probably looking out for him, trying to spare him from walking on rocks and slippery soil, but wouldn't have it. Brego knew he was right. He _had_ to find Aragorn. Also, water meant they wouldn't get dehydrated at least.

So after a loud whinny and a temperamental nod of his head, the boy sighed and relaxed in the saddle. He loosened the reins and allowed the horse to move more freely. Brego liked this boy. He was light and a very skilled rider though he seemed very tired. At the beginning of their ride he had seemed as excited as Brego about being free to run. Now it felt as if he was getting very exhausted. But despite the boy's weariness, he knew how to sit straight. So straight that it barely felt like there was anyone on his back. But that was not at the forefront of his mind though.

Brego occasionally sniffed the air. Horses were very instinctual which usually meant they were far better equipped at keeping lookout than humans. Brego didn't know that his rider already knew this. Edmund had had several Talking Horses under his command in Narnia. Some had been his very close friends. Phillip, for one, besides being his preferred war- _and_ leisure-horse. Or as Phillip had always said: Edmund was _his_ Boy and he would be stiff and old before he would let anyone else carry _his_ Boy. Loyalty was a trait Edmund recognized all too well in horses and Horses.

Brego didn't know that his temporary rider knew any of this, though. He was watching the water and suddenly whinnied. The boy flinched and Brego started tugging the reins. "Whoa, easy." He felt a hand on his neck and crest, trying to calm him down, but Brego didn't have time to be calm. "He's right there!" he shouted in equine-tongue, of which the boy understood very little. The horse responded by trying to pull the reins free. Then his rider seemed to notice what _he_ had.

Aragorn was lying on the bank of the river, face down. "Hya!" The boy kicked Brego into a brisk canter and dismounted when he reached Aragorn. He made a fist, but kept it by his side, but Brego wasn't worried. Most humans were nice enough and though this little one seemed a bit nervous, Brego knew it was only _that_. Nerves.

Brego gently touched his nose to Aragorn's face and exhaled. The boy rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "Friend?"

Brego whinnied quietly, wholeheartedly concurring with the boy's idea that Aragorn should rise, and lowered his muzzle. He nudged Aragorn and roused him with a start.

"Brego," he whispered and ran a hand lovingly over his nose.

To Brego, that touch and sound was the most wonderful he had ever experienced.

"Sir?" the boy asked again. He made sure to keep his voice soft and low so as not to scare the man. Brego recognized it as the same voice Aragorn had used to calm _him_ after they had returned to Rohan together. Brego had been so scared and sad about Théodred, but suddenly Aragorn was there. He spoke in the same voice this _new_ rider now used. Brego, being the smart horse that he was, realized that _this_ was why he liked the boy.

Aragorn keenly noticed they boy's fisted hand. "Who are you?" His voice was a deep rumble. He glanced at Brego, who could tell that Aragorn was confused as to why the boy was there. He probably thought he was Brego's new rider. Anxious to relieve his fears, Brego whinnied and nudged Aragorn to sit up.

"My name is Edmund Pevensie," He assisted Aragorn into a seated position. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

Aragorn glanced at his now relaxed fist and back at his face. "Did you say. . . Edmund?"

The boy frowned and nodded.

Aragorn smiled. "Then luck truly _is_ on my side this day," He scrambled to his feet and gladly accepted Edmund's hand of assistance to stand. "I have not only survived a fall off a cliff and an exhausting, and nearly fatal, swim down the river, but I have also met the infamous brother of Peter and Susan." He smiled and swayed where he stood. Brego stretched his neck to give his rider something to lean on.

"You've met my siblings?" the boy asked. Brego thought he sounded scared almost and wanted to comfort him as well, but Aragorn would fall if he moved.

"Yes," Aragorn nodded. "And I bring news of your sister Lucy. She's safe, deep within Fangorn with friends of mine."

The boy let out a breath he didn't seem to realize he had been holding. His shoulders sagged for the first time since Brego had met him. He looked so light and almost about to cry that Brego almost cried as well. Though he could shed no tears, he could certainly wail in sorrow. He would have if not for the two-second smile that lit up the boy's face in the dark.

Aragorn smiled and petted Brego's neck. He relished the attention. "Lucky indeed." the ranger sighed and rubbed a bruise under his leather tunic. "We should rest for the night and move towards Helms Deep in the morning."

The boy suddenly looked very scared, as if he remembered something he should never have forgotten. "No. We need to go now. A force of ten thousand Uruk-hai has left Isengard."

Aragorn paled and Brego felt him shiver through his touch. "Are you certain?"

"I heard Saruman give the order myself and saw their preparations. Though they'll have to take the long way to get there, they _are_ coming." He put as much conviction as possible into his voice and looked Aragorn evenly in the eye. Brego shivered as well, understanding some of the conversation. The word 'Uruk-hai' made shivers travel up and down his spine.

Aragorn nodded. "Very well. We'll ride through the night and hopefully reach the Deep before Saruman does." With no further words exchanged, Brego kneeled and allowed Aragorn to mount. His rider held out a hand for the boy who mounted as well.

Brego huffed a little over the added weight and took a few moments to adjust to it. Then he let out a loud whinny and took off in a canter, back towards the trail and Helms Deep.

_His rider was back!_

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> As I said, favorite chapter. It's a little short and for that I apologize. Let me know what you thought of it.


	24. Chapter 24: Arrival at Helms Deep

**Disclaimer:** I own naught!

**Author's Note: **The Cretin mentioned how well you could sense Peter's protectiveness for his siblings in the last one. I hope you do in this as well.

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><p>Chapter 24 – Arrival at Helms Deep<p>

Edmund felt about ready to faint half way to Helms Deep. Sometime during the night he and Aragorn had switched places. The ranger gently put his arms around the young man and told him to rest. At first Edmund had been wary, but quickly fell into a deep sleep. The energy he had spent during his escape was now hitting him. Also the news that his brother would be at Helms Deep was like a rock falling from his chest.

He felt so light again. His sisters were safe as far as Aragorn knew and soon he would see _Peter_. He awoke very early the next morning when Aragorn gently nudged him awake. "We're here."

Edmund opened his eyes and looked across a great field, ensconced by steep hills. At the end was a fortress. All the way from their spot they could hear the faint sound of voices behind the city walls. Sounds of work going on. Edmund drew a deep breath when they breached the city gates. People gathered around them, most of whom recognized Aragorn. They all smiled as if their messiah had returned from beyond the grave. Edmund didn't know that to _them_ that was exactly what had happened.

They moved inside the citadel and up to the keep where royal guards stood to attention. Women and children were squatting outside. Most, watching him and Aragorn. "My Lord, Aragorn," a long-haired guard said in a breathless voice.

Aragorn dismounted with a little help, as did Edmund. "Gamling," Aragorn greeted warmly. He turned with a hand on Edmund's neck and guided them towards the main hall. Suddenly there was a white-haired man in front of them. "_Mae-govannen_," he said in a mild voice, with a smile. "You're late." He smirked over Aragorn's surprise. "And you look terrible."

Aragorn huffed and greeted the man. "Legolas," The two embraced.

"Everybody move! Outta my way!" a rough voice barked.

Edmund flinched slightly and tried to find the source of the shout.

"You lucky, stubborn. . ._lucky_ man!" A red-bearded dwarf split the crowds and embraced Aragorn as well. "Next time, try to keep your big feet on land!" Though he was loud, there was no malice in his voice and Edmund relaxed.

"Friends, I seek Peter." Aragorn said calmly and with an easy smile.

Legolas only now seemed to notice Edmund and faltered. "Who is this?" His voice was awestruck.

"I give you, King Edmund," Aragorn answered with a smile. "Peter's brother."

Both the dwarf and Legolas' jaws dropped. Well, Legolas' didn't, but he managed to look completely surprised and graceful all at once. "King Edmund," he whispered and extended a hand. "It is truly an honor."

Edmund nodded mutely and took the hand. Though he did not know it, he was quite the sight. He was beaten, bloody and bruised and yet there was an air around him. Almost like a glow of somberness. Peter used to joke during their reign that he only ever looked this menacing when he was exhausted. Edmund realized he might have a point. He had never felt so tired and yet so in control. It would take a straw to break him now, but at the same time he felt unshakable.

"Peter is inside," Gimli gestured without taking his little, brown eyes off Edmund.

Aragorn put his hand back on Edmund's neck – a gesture Edmund found immensely soothing – and guided them both towards the hall. Legolas and Gimli followed. The voice that met them was like angelic choirs to Edmund.

"You need to listen to me-"

"Silence!" a strange voice ordered. "I am king and take orders from no one!"

"It's not an order. It's _advice_. If you would just listen-"

"Remember your place, Peter-"

"That's _King Peter_-"

"Pete?" Edmund's voice was barely a whisper, but it stopped his brother dead.

The oldest Pevensie froze with his finger pointed mid-air at king Théoden and turned towards the entrance. Instantly all eyes flew from Peter to Edmund in wonder. Who was this new arrival that looked like he had braved hell to be there? "Edmund. . ." Peter was on the verge of tears three seconds upon hearing his brother's voice, and Edmund knew this.

He flexed his thighs and put every last inch of energy into moving his legs forward. His older brother did the same. The look in his eyes was pure relief and horror. Horror over his brother's state and relief that he was _there_.

Suddenly it was as if something gave way and Peter lunged for his brother. "Aslan. . ." His voice was almost a whisper as they crashed into each other. Peter pulled him close.

At the age of seventeen – in respective Earth years – Edmund was just low enough to tuck his head under his brother's chin. He did so with a whimper. "Peter," His voice was thick.

Peter shivered when he heard his brother's soft cry. _He's back! Thank you thank you thank you, oh Aslan, thank you!_ Tears were falling from his eyes as his fingers curled in Edmund's tattered shirt. "You're back," was all he could say through the overwhelming emotions.

Edmund let out an iota of his emotional turmoil and sobbed once. He crammed his face into the crook of his brother's neck and clung to his shirt. He felt so tired. His knees gave out and his brother followed him to the floor. Like that, they sat for what felt like hours, but were in fact only minutes. Neither cared if anyone saw them cry. Neither cared how much time passed or about the war on their doorstep. All Peter felt in that instant was immense gratitude and joy. Edmund felt everything he hadn't allowed himself to feel since falling into Middle-Earth.

It wasn't until he squirmed that Peter pulled him up. His arm stayed around his shoulders. He wasn't about to let go when he only now had his brother back. He looked up at Théoden and suddenly had a hard time remembering what they had been fighting over. "Is there somewhere for my brother to rest?" His voice was thick with tears, but not without relief either.

King Théoden had become mute at the powerful display of emotions and could only stare at the boy, who wasn't really a boy at all. It was Gamling, by Aragorn's side, who spoke. "In the annex there should be a bed. Eowyn?" He knew he was overstepping his boundaries slightly, asking the king's niece to do _anything_, but to his never-ending gratitude she just nodded and gestured for Peter to follow. As the two Narnian kings left the great hall, all were left mum. A deep silence and a feeling of peace had settled in the air.

Unknown by anyone present, that very feeling was not commonly found in Middle-Earth. Unending love between brothers. More specifically, it was a state of being the two boys had originally brought with them to Narnia where it had blossomed into an infectious feeling. _That_ feeling now saturated every object in the keep. An aura of serenity slowly crept into the hearts of every man, woman and child. And though it only lingered till evening, it was still the most precious gift Middle-Earth would ever receive.

Peter walked his brother to a room. It was colder than he would've liked, but the bed was comfortable. There he sat his brother down and removed his shirt without a single word. Edmund watched calmly as his brother helped him out of his tattered, British clothes. Peter had not done this for him in years and Edmund had never needed it more. His feelings had simmered down, and left him quite hollow. But Peter barely took notice after his eyes caught sight of his upper body.

He removed the shirt and exposed the myriad of bruises on Edmund's chest. He took a deep breath and felt tears well up in his eyes again. "Who did this to you?" he asked, almost as if afraid to hear the answer.

Edmund absently touched his chest. "Orcs. Uruk-hai," He shrugged. "Saruman." They no longer mattered. He was safe and would not receive any more wounds under his big brother's watch.

Peter's breath hitched as he ran his finger over one particularly nasty one.

"It's alright." Edmund could feel himself falling asleep, sitting. "They're hardly sore." That wasn't true, but they still felt better than they had the day before.

Peter looked up at him and showed the tears in his eyes. He grabbed his brother's face in both hands and pressed his forehead to his. "I _promise_ he will never hurt you again."

Edmund sighed and relished the only tender, physical contact he'd had in weeks. "I know, brother." The two young men sat like this for a few moments in silence. The pressing matter of the approaching war was crawling back into Peter's mind, but he refused to leave his brother just yet.

"Lie down," He pulled back the covers and tucked Edmund in.

The dark-haired boy curled on his side after the sheets were tucked under him. "Will you stay here a little? Just until I fall asleep?" he mumbled. He knew Peter had to leave. He knew there was a war coming and that Aragorn was most likely informing everyone about it. But for Edmund there was only the now.

There was a sadness in Peter's eyes as he sat on the bed next to his brother and pulled the younger boy onto his arm. "What do _you_ think?" He smirked with Edmund and started running his fingers through the black hair. The lullaby he had learned from Lady Galadriel suddenly sang through his mind. Before he knew it, the words were flowing out of his mouth, though he hardly remembered half of them.

To Edmund it didn't much matter. His brother's low baritone lulled him to sleep. He could have been talking nonsense and Edmund still would have found it calming. It only took a moment before his breathing evened out and he fell into a light sleep.

Peter sat with his brother for most of the day before he carefully extracted himself from the bed. He left the door to the room wide open so Edmund wouldn't feel boxed in when he awoke. Before leaving, he planted a kiss on his crown like he had done ever since they were children, every time Edmund was hurt or upset. His brother never admitted it, but Peter knew it calmed him, and even in sleep it seemed to work. The little jerks and twitches that had been indications of a beginning nightmare vanished under his kiss.

Peter could leave, knowing his brother was resting peacefully.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> 'Nother one comin' up!


	25. Chapter 25: Body of Armor

**Disclaimer:** Nothing but my computer is mine.

**Author's Note:** Another one because the other one was a little short and because I'm an attention whore. :) More angst, limp and sibling-protectiveness coming up. Ooh and you get to see Peter angry - as in P.I.S.S.E.D.!

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><p>Chapter 25 – Body of Armor<p>

The remaining members of the Fellowship were in the hall with King Théoden and his men when Peter returned.

"So that was your brother?" Gimli asked with a serene look in the direction of Edmund's room.

Peter nodded and ran a hand over his face.

"You look exhausted," Legolas said in a calm voice. In truth that was not all he looked. There was a lingering sorrow in his eyes that the elf found surprisingly moving.

Peter waved away their concern. "I'm more worried about Aragorn," He met the ranger's eye.

"I'll be fine, Peter." He looked tired, but not as battered as Edmund. "Tell us, how goes it with your brother?"

Peter sighed and suddenly found it very hard to look any of the men in the eye. "He's been at Isengard for over a month – Tortured by orcs, Uruk-hai and Saruman." Gasps of fright and shock echoed through the gathered.

"But he's a boy. What could Saruman want from him?" Gimli asked.

Peter felt an overwhelming love for the dwarf for his sudden protectiveness. "Edmund's not just any boy," was all the answer he gave. It seemed to be enough, because they all nodded sagely. "How are the preparations coming along?" He looked up at Théoden and hoped the king would let their argument remain in the past.

"We will fight till the last man," The king seemed confident, but Peter knew enough to realize it was his way of burying personal feelings under the task set before him.

Peter was an expert on that subject and he knew that there would come a moment when Théoden King would break. When the loss of his son came crashing down and the overwhelming task of leading an army became too much. "I will follow your word, my lord." But he was done arguing. Taking a line from his brother, doing as Edmund would have done. He realized that the time for arguments had passed. He would act when things became dire and had no doubt that the Fellowship would follow him.

"Will your brother be fighting?" Théoden asked, almost as if he expected it. He was absently tightening his Vambraces.

_Did he not hear me say 'torture'?_ Peter's rage simmered dangerously close to the surface. "No he will not."

That alarmed the king. He'd need every man available. Most of them were injured and tired. Most of them were boys as well. "Why not? Is he not capable with a sword?"

"He's the best swordsman you'll ever see, but _not_ when he has just spent a month in enemy hands." The anger over what had been done to his brother was bleeding over onto Théoden because of his outrageous suggestion. Surely he was joking?

"Then why not let him fight?" The king felt secure on his throne after winning the argument with Peter and didn't recognize the early warning signs. The length one brother would go to for the other.

Suddenly Peter's entire demeanor changed. He now resembled his brother as he had looked upon arrival, and not the boy they had all gotten to know over time. "In many things I am wrong, _Théoden King_," His face darkened and an almost evil air came over him. "But not in this. You can order me and I will follow, but as _his_ brother," Peter pointed in the direction of Edmund. "- and his king, I am _telling_ you. . . No."

Théoden looked more than a little shocked. As did Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. All the soldiers who were listening to the conversation, for that matter.

But Peter wasn't finished. "I will fight in his place and I promise you, with every wound they have dealt him, I will deal a hundred more." His voice was a thunderclap in the quiet hall. A promise so dark it made shivers run down even Aragorn's spine. "Ask me again and that promise shall be directed at you." His grim tone left no room for argument or even anger. They were all being threatened and they knew it.

Aragorn was shocked to discover such fearsome fury resided in the bright boy. He was barely a quarter of his own age and yet acted like someone closer to a hundred. Someone who had seen more strife than most weathered warriors would in a lifetime. He also realized, this side of Peter was rearing its intimidating head because his brother had been hurt. He never had any brothers, but could relate to feeling like a protector for others. He imagined it went double between siblings and in particular _older_ siblings. He made a silent vow with himself never to cross the youngest king, and even lay his own life on the line to protect him, in fear of his older brother. Suddenly it all made a little more sense and with that understanding came a strange calm. The four siblings really _were_ more than they seemed. They really _were_ kings and queens. Warriors and healers.

A new hope filled him. They were not fighting alone. Not only did they have a powerful monarch in their midst, but someone much more powerful had put him there, all four of them. Someone who wanted Middle-Earth free of Saruman's reign. As Peter left, the silence thickened.

The king did not see his fault, only the violent reaction. As a result his mood soured. He growled and left the hall. Aragorn figured he would return when he was ready to do battle and not mince words with men he could never hope to understand. At that moment Théoden held very little of his sympathy.

He gathered Legolas and Gimli to him and followed Peter into Edmund's room. Peter needed to put on his armor. When they arrived they saw that he was speaking to his brother in a quiet voice. "You _need_ to sleep-"

"I _have_ slept and now I'm awake. I know there's a war coming, Peter. I can't stay here for much longer if I'm going to be of any use."

Aragorn knocked on the door and both men stiffened.

It was Edmund who greeted them first. "Aragorn?"

Peter seemed angered by the interruption and Aragorn hurried to put him at ease. "I have not come to dispute your words about Edmund," He entered fully with Legolas and Gimli behind him. Neither the dwarf nor the elf knew exactly what was happening. "I have come to speak with Edmund." He waited for the invitation to sit and smiled when it was given by the youngest king.

"What's this about?" Peter asked, slightly frustrated that his brother was fighting him.

Edmund glanced at him and noticed that the sadness had not left his brother's eyes, but couldn't for the life of him understand why. Anger, sure. Worry, yes. But sadness? Edmund was _back_. He was safe. What would his brother have to be sad about?

"I believe your brother may have valuable information we could use," He looked at Edmund questioningly.

Edmund shrugged. "I heard a great many things while I was there, but I'm not sure I can help you unless you get a little more specific."

"You said Saruman's army was taking the long way from Isengard, through a gap in Fangorn?"

Edmund nodded. His brother had shifted closer to him and crossed his arms. "They've felled most of the trees along the southern border of the forest."

"How many did you see?"

"Uruks?"

Aragorn nodded.

Edmund's gaze went to the floor in thought. "I'd reckon about ten thousand." He felt sorry for them when he saw their shocked faces.

"So many," Legolas' eyes filled with worry, but was interrupted by Aragorn.

"What else did you see?"

"Slaves." Edmund said in a faraway voice. "Saruman has slaves working the forges."

"What?" Peter heard the flat tone his brother had used and turned to him, one hand gripping his shoulder. "You didn't tell me this."

Edmund shrugged. "I was one of them. So was Lucy. It was where we were held." He held out a hand when he thought his brother might interrupt. "Don't worry, she got out."

"I know. I spoke with Gandalf." Peter was standing, watching his brother as he sat on the bed.

"Who's Gandalf?"

"He's a friend." Peter shook his head and dismissed the question. "How did she get out?"

"I created a distraction." He smirked. "Why do you think Saruman took a personal interest in me?" He was hunched over, but looked oddly unshakable.

Peter's hand went to his mouth and he turned. Anger snuck into his posture. "Bloody hell, Edmund. . . Why didn't _you_ run as well?"

"They would've killed us, Pete."

"So better you than her, is that it?" he accused.

"Yes!" Gimli gave a little flinch over his shout. Edmund drew a deep breath before he continued. "Always: Better I than you." He sounded so weary. As if it was an argument he had had too many times to count.

The high king sighed and knew it was a conversation – a line of _thinking_ in his brother – that would never change. And despite the fear for his brother's severely twisted sense of self-worth he couldn't help a quick smile over his valor. _Only you, Edmund_. "You probably saved her life," he said with conviction.

"But not theirs." Edmund finished sullenly. He picked at a tear in the sheet and suddenly became very aware that his bruised chest was visible to everyone in the room. He pulled the sheet closer around him, which in turn worried Peter who thought his brother was cold.

He made to fetch a blanket, but Edmund pulled him back down with a thump. "Relax, Mr. Magnificent. I'm not cold." He smirked and tricked a little smile out of his brother as well.

But despite his protest, or perhaps _because_ of it, Peter sat back and put his arm around his shoulders. "You shouldn't have had to save anyone at all." were his final words. He looked up as if daring anyone to argue with him, but none of them did.

"What you did, though I didn't see it, sounds very brave." Gimli said. "I can't imagine what it must've felt like to stand before Saruman unarmed." He nudged his favorite axe a little closer.

"There was a man there," Edmund suddenly said. "Grima?" He looked up at their faces in the hopes that the name was familiar.

They all frowned. Peter tensed and shifted his body a little closer to Edmund's. "Grima is the snake that helped bewitch Théoden King." Aragorn answered. "I'm not surprised he ran back to his master."

Edmund huffed without any real heat behind it. "I wouldn't be too sad about his escape. Saruman wasn't very pleased to see him either."

"He was tortured?" Legolas asked and instantly realized his mistake.

Edmund noticed that all their faces fell and they looked at him like he'd break. "Almost as bad as I was." And then he realized why their faces had fallen. He swallowed. His own expression fell as well when he wished he hadn't spoken those words out loud. He didn't dare look at his brother and decided to change the topic of conversation. "I want to fight."

"Oh, Edmund. . ." Peter was trying very desperately to keep from whimpering. It was not a conversation he wanted to have.

"I refuse to sit here and cower." Edmund tried the offensive to prove he was not as weak as he looked.

"You're _not_ fighting." Peter didn't even seem like he was arguing any longer. Merely stating facts.

"I watch your back, you watch mine. That's the way it's always been, Peter." He swallowed again and tried to push down his fear of not being needed. "I think it's bad luck to change our routines on the eve of battle." He tried for a little lightheartedness, but failed.

"I'm afraid that very statement speaks against you, Edmund." Aragorn interrupted. "The army will be here by nightfall if what you said is true. It's only a few hours away and you're hardly ready to fight a war."

"Yes I am." Edmund defended. None of them noticed his slightly insecure tone.

Aragorn nodded. "It's only a personal observation."

All of them knew what was really being said. _Aragorn_ was barely ready for war, certainly not Edmund. He could feel frustrations welling up inside him. "What do you expect me to do? Sit here and let you fight alone?" He looked at his brother and saw the same sadness as before. "It's not _fair_." He knew he doomed himself as he said it. Whenever he was tired or worn out, Edmund always resorted to childishness. It was a habit that had been hard to shake the first time around and one which insisted upon returning every time he felt grossly outmaneuvered. It was like a beacon for his brother that he was not yet one hundred percent and only strengthened Peter's beliefs.

He placed a hand on Edmund's cheek without lowering his eyes. "I know, Ed."

"Then let m-me help you," His voice cracked. He felt highly bothered that three people he barely knew were watching this interlude between himself and his brother. Actually, if he'd had it his way he'd be _completely_ alone and getting ready for war at that moment.

But Peter seemed undaunted by his brother's, rather desperate, plea. "Not this time, Eddy. I need to know you're safe."

There was that sadness again as he looked deep into Edmund's brown eyes. The youngest king ripped free of his brother's embrace, but almost instantly regretted it when he saw the hurt look on Peter's face. "I don't need looking after. I'm not eleven years old anymore!" He stood up.

"No. You're seventeen years old and have just been through the trauma of a lifetime-"

"Ehr, perhaps we should leave-" Gimli suggested, but was interrupted.

"This was _nothing_ compared to Jadis and I fought her the day after my release!"

"Those were vastly different circumstances." Peter said in a soft voice.

"How so?"

"For one, Aslan was there. We had an army of our own to run and a kingdom of _our own_ to defend."

Edmund huffed and looked away.

But Peter wouldn't have it and rose to stand. "And you went out onto the field of battle against my wishes and nearly died. Now, _by Aslan_, I will not let you finish the job this time around!"

Edmund was forcefully turned when Peter gripped his arm. He glanced at Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas who had the decency to look uncomfortable. "They don't need to be here for this-"

"Yes they do," Peter turned to them. "What say you? Would _you_ let him fight?" he challenged them all with a hard stare.

All gave their declines, much to Edmund's disappointment.

Peter turned back on his brother again. "You would've died that day had it not been for Aslan's grace and Lucy's cordial." He gripped his brother's face in both hands. "Please, try to understand."

Edmund didn't understand. "Why don't you just order me and get it over with?" He wouldn't look his brother in the eye. Peter didn't know how horrible these creatures were. He wasn't prepared for the destruction they would bring.

"I would if I thought it would do me any good. Hell, I would tie you to your bed if I didn't think you'd be out in a matter of minutes," He huffed and offered a consolatory smile which did nothing to make Edmund smile.

"It might. I _am_ awfully weak, apparently." His voice was sullen and betrayed.

Peter could have cried out. Betrayal was the very _last_ thing he wanted to make his brother feel. "I'll promise you what I did to Susan," The mention of his sister got his attention. "I promise not to rush headfirst into anything beyond my limits."

Edmund still wasn't convinced, but Peter, bless him, knew exactly what his little brother – his brother in spirit, and his brother in arms – needed to hear. "I promise I won't forget you're not there with me. I won't forget that you're not guarding my back."

Edmund's almond shaped eyes scanned every inch of his brother's face. His breaths were deep and rash. He felt exhausted and had only been standing for a few minutes. A testament to how worn he was.

"Please, Edmund. I'm begging you now." Peter's thumb rubbed in a little circle on his cheek. "Please. . ."

Reluctantly, and still feeling betrayed, Edmund nodded. He looked away and sat back down on the bed. "I'd like to get some rest now, if you don't mind."

"Ed. . ."

"Your majesty, let's go." Aragorn begged. The three men rose as one. "There are preparations to be made."

"Edmund?" Peter sounded heartbroken.

Edmund sat stiff as a stone and looked intently at the floor. With a last sigh, Peter turned and left the room along with Aragorn. As soon as they were out of sight Edmund let his shoulders drop. He was desperately tired, but not yet ready to sleep. He felt betrayed by the one person he hoped and begged never to feel that from. Ever since Jadis, there had been a nagging fear that maybe it was what he deserved.

He remembered the day he was returned to Aslan's camp and the fear he'd had that Peter would strike him. Instead his brother had cleaned his wounds and cried. Edmund had cried as well, but for very different reasons. Truth was, ever since that day, he had waited for that strike to fall. It never had until now. This was a blow that left him almost incapacitated.

He sat on his bed and lost track of time. If his brother didn't want him by his side, no matter the reasons, Edmund would find another way to make himself useful. He'd always have his brother's back and knew it was the very least he could do. Only now he wouldn't be offering assistance on the frontlines. He'd have to find another way.

In that knowledge he allowed himself a few more minutes of rest.

He had almost drifted back to sleep when a loud cry went through the keep. Edmund flinched and lunged to his feet. "Peter?" His weakened body protested the sudden movement. His head swam and his stiff muscles cramped painfully. With shaky steps he left his room. He ran into the hallway and into the main hall where Théoden and his soldiers were gathering. Peter, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were there as well. "Peter, what happened?" He ran over to his brother who was strapping a sword to his waist.

"I need you to go with Eowyn and protect her." He was panicked, Edmund could tell.

"You! Boy!" It was king Théoden who called. "If you intend to fight, find some armor. If not, join the women in the caves." He was dismissed as the king went about ordering his troops to their stations.

Edmund's hackles would have raised, had he had any, and he glared at the king.

"Edmund, listen to him!" Peter interrupted. "I cannot protect you in this. I need you to go with Eowyn for me." The woman he spoke of was busy shooing people into large caverns at the bottom of the hall.

"There's an exit through the back tunnels. Make sure they're safe!" one of the king's men called a couple of his soldiers. Two men sped into the caves, past the frightened women and children.

Edmund suddenly got an idea. "What caves?"

"They're back exits, should the Uruk-hai breach the wall." Peter rambled, not noticing his brother's dangerously interested expression. "Edmund. Go with them. Help as many as you can as we bring in the wounded and _wait for me_."

Peter turned to leave, but Edmund stopped him. "Do you _promise_ to come back?" He looked his brother in the eye.

Perhaps for the first time, Peter saw the level of fear his brother had over being left behind. He reached up and rested his forehead against Edmund's as he had earlier. "I Promise." He sighed and tried to reclaim some of his calm. His brother was there. Aslan was there. "Do I have your blessing?"

Edmund sighed as well and leaned up to kiss his brother's forehead. "Once for Aslan," He kissed again. "Twice for me."

Peter looked at him with round eyes. The Lion's blessing had been a standard since their second year in Narnia. The king's, or queen's, blessing had usually been reserved for when one of them faced insurmountable odds. Usually granted by Susan or Lucy, but now it was Edmund's turn.

"You come get me, you hear?" His voice was strong though his face was pale and dark circles surrounded his eyes.

Peter nodded and patted him once on the shoulder before leaving. As he made for his position on the outer wall, the king shouted his last order. "Seal the doors!"

To the sound of drums, the doors of Helms Deep slammed closed.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> The next chapter features Lucy. Hope you liked. Oh and chocolate-chip cookies to anyone who guesses what Edmund is gonna do while his brother is out fighting. Just don't spoil ;)


	26. Chapter 26: The Rebellion of the Slaves

**Disclaimer:** I've seen this on other posts and I've used it before myself: Though I try to work as independently and originally as possible when writing stories, I realize that I am borrowing from quite a few people. Some intentional and some unintentional. The deliberate 'borrowing', as is the case with the written works of C. and J.R., is where I get my main inspiration from. The unintended borrowing is whenever I think I "remember" something someone else has already written. I have no concrete examples, but if anyone finds anything that they've read in other stories on this site, don't be afraid to let me know. :) The facts are that I've read so much from this site that inspired me and I pray I haven't insultet anyone. If I did I deeply apologize.

**Author's Note:** I owe you all an apology. I failed to update for two days now. But there is a reason. I've come down with a cold. It is by far lifethreatening, but annoying nevertheless. Details, you ask? Well my nose is dribbling, my throat feels like steelwool and my head is so heavy I wonder how it's still attached. Stuffing my face with tea and vitamines as we speak, but you know what they say (by 'they' I obviously mean doctors *hisses*): Treat a cold and it will clear up in seven days. Don't treat it and it will clear up in a week. :(

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><p>Chapter 26 – The Rebellion of the Slaves<p>

Lucy had walked through the forest and nearly gotten lost several times. She had tried to follow the path she and Gandalf had taken, to where she first met him. But that turned out to be a bigger task than initially planned. After nearly losing her way thrice, doubling back each time, she eventually found the trail and realized she was almost halfway. From the place where they first met it would be easy to find the edge of Fangorn. She saw the first glimpses of stars two days after she left her new friend.

The tree line ended rather abruptly. It had receded since Lucy left. The trees had been stripped bare. Some of them had been ripped up by the roots while others had just been cut. She shuttered in horror. These trees were _alive_, did they not know that? Or did they just not care? Cutting one down wasn't just inhuman, it was cruel. The trees behind her creaked and a cool wind blew at her from the bowels of Fangorn. _It's dangerous_. She looked up into the slowly brightening sky. Dawn was coming and would make her task impossible in about an hour.

She pulled the cloak tighter. The first thing she needed to do upon entering Orthanc was to find a weapon. Preferably a sword, but a bow would do as well. She blinked her eyes after her exhaustion caught up with her. She shouldn't have stopped. So she started running low to the ground. It was a sheer marvel that her elvish cloak was almost the same color as the ground. She would have been spotted in two seconds flat had she come striding up to the gates in her red hunting suit.

She approached from the east. The forest was behind her. The air was crisp and clear. She thought it might have rained during the night, but the canopy of the forest had sheltered her from the worst of it. She realized how right she was, when she came to Orthanc. There was mud everywhere. No birds like she was used to after rainstorms. No smell of grass. And almost no sounds at all. A few lonely orcs were hammering away on metal. Why she couldn't say. The army was gone.

She stopped in surprise and looked around at the entrance to the cage where she and Edmund had been held. The only living creatures she could see were the people inside. All others were gone.

When she reached the bottom she saw to her disappointment that was not entirely true. The Uruk-hai were gone, yes, but the orcs were still there. Sleeping in the early hours of the morning. She made her way to the large cage and snuck up to the door. There were only a handful of people left. She drew a quick breath. So many had been killed since she left. Guilt blossomed in her. How could she have left them like that?

"Lucy?" A man's voice shocked her back to the present.

She looked through the bars and saw Esodhal looking at her with wide eyes. She gestured for him to be silent. She looked around for something to break the lock. "I'm going to get you out," she whispered and grabbed the bars.

Esodhal came over to her and grabbed her hands. He looked so relieved.

"Are you strong enough to run?" she asked.

Esodhal nodded and wiped away his tears. "We _will_ be for you," he promised.

She nodded and turned, searching for anything heavy enough to smash the lock. She didn't have her lock-pick and didn't know who held the keys. "Wake the others quietly. I'll be right back." She snuck back into the darkness of the cold furnaces and saw her prize almost instantly. A wagon full of dull weapons, waiting for someone to sharpen them. She grabbed one and tested its weight. It was heavy enough to bash the locks with, but far too heavy for her to fight with. She looked around again and smiled even fiercer.

On a shelf she saw a dozen bows lined up in a neat row. She grabbed a bow and quiver for herself, and reached for another bow and unhooked its string. She did this with all the other bows expect for five, which she took with her.

She returned to find that Esodhal had awoken the others and all were quietly watching her. She smiled. "Do any of you know how to use one of these?" Most of them nodded. _I should have brought more than five_. "Step back." She raised the Uruk sword and brought it down on the lock. It shattered on the first try. She yanked it out, opened the door, and handed out the five bows and quivers.

"Thank you for returning, Lucy." Essir said with a weary smile. He looked so worn.

She nodded and looked around. "Where's Larrah?"

Esodhal looked at his hands. He scrubbed them and clenched them to keep from shaking. Tears fell from his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away and tested the strength of his bow. "She died in her sleep a few nights ago." His voice was a whisper. "They took her body yesterday."

Lucy felt as if she had been punched. She looked at his hands and wondered _how_ exactly Larrah had died. She should never have left them. "I'm sorry," she whispered back. She could tell he was on the verge of breaking down completely and didn't want to add to it. Going against every grain in her body, she decided not to comfort him, but to give him something to focus on. "I want to get the others as well."

All around her looked up in shock. "That's suicide." someone in the back hissed.

"I need your help." She looked at Esodhal who had an unreadable look in his eye. She knew he was a good man. He just needed a little incentive. "I was too late to save _your_ wife, but with your help we can maybe save someone else's."

He looked at her through deep, green eyes and nodded carefully. "You have my bow," He glanced at his son. "However weak it may be."

Lucy nodded when Essir did as well and put a hand on Esodhal's shoulder. She leaned in and whispered to him. "If it helps," He looked up. "Get angry. Kill them as they killed so many of us." Her voice hardened in a way it hadn't done in years. She had taken to the name Valiant and become a warrior in her own right. Her spirit held the same fire that Peter's did. She was a soldier for Narnia first and foremost. Queen and diplomat second. As her eyes came to life, so did Esodhal's.

"It helps," he whispered back.

She nodded and moved them all out. The few who had thought it a bad idea to mount a rescue followed anyway. It was either that or venture out of Orthanc alone. Lucy couldn't blame them for wanting to leave this hell, but couldn't stop thinking about all the others trapped down there.

They moved quietly and quickly. The sun was rising. By her estimate she had only half an hour before it became light enough that everyone would see them. The air in the smithy deeps was turning a dusty blue. She moved to the front of the group and held her bow at the ready. It was a crude and ugly thing. The feathers on the arrows were covered in some sort of oil, but it was strong.

They found the next cage within a few minutes. People were already awake and came to stand when Lucy and her group arrived. She still had the Uruk sword and bashed the lock in after a few attempts. She gave the people there the same instructions before she went over to another furnace and took all the bows. Most of the new group knew how to handle a bow as well. Most people hunted for food and were as good as trained soldiers.

She frowned mentally. _Well, almost as good as soldiers_. These people had no training. They were weak after being worked to the brink of death for weeks, or possibly even months. Most were hurt or sick. She tried to ignore it and pretended she was back in Narnia with her army again. For one thing she was glad. There were far more mothers and children that she had counted on. Parents, especially mothers, were dangerous when they felt their young were threatened. It was a lesson she unfortunately learned late in her reign. After they opened the fifth cage, their group had expanded to about thirty. But despite their large size they still moved without a sound. Everyone knew the risks of waking up the orcs.

Some were waking and starting to work. The group kept to the shadows. Lucy was at the front with Esodhal and Essir and there were only a few times where they had to loosen an arrow. The orcs were killed quietly and stowed away in the lingering shadows.

The sun was climbing higher in the sky, almost cresting the mountains in the west. The darkness was fading and light was slowly penetrating the thick layers of smoke at the bottom. They needed to move faster, Lucy realized. She had this thought when she spotted a stair, leading up and out. She turned and motioned for people to stay low. "We need to get those without bows out of here." Her hiss barely reached the back of the group, but she was afraid to raise her voice. "This stair leads to the surface. We've come almost halfway around the tower so this should take you to the western side." She pointed up and looked at those still unarmed, for confirmation. "Is there one of you who can lead the others?"

"I'll take them," a scrawny-looking man spoke up. He was unarmed.

Lucy nodded and moved the main part of the group aside. "You get up there and keep running." she told him.

He nodded and grabbed the stairs with one hand to usher people past with the other. "Keep silent," He guided all those up the stairs who wanted to go. "Be silent."

"Where will you go?" Lucy asked before he left with the others.

The man looked at her. "I'll take them to Helms Deep. They will find safety there."

She nodded and let him go. She and the remaining Rohirrims moved through Orthanc as light crept over the sky. "There," She pointed to a cage where three orcs were gathered and in the process of pulling a woman, screaming, from her family. Lucy notched an arrow along with Esodhal and Essir. She let it fly as a signal for them to do the same. The three orcs fell to the ground, dead. The group moved over and freed the people. Most started crying when their rescuers arrived.

And so it went until they reached the east side again. Three more groups had been sent out of Orthanc by the western entrance, when mayhem erupted.

"The prisoners are escaping!" an orc cried from somewhere afar.

Half the group was pulling people out of the last cage and arming all who could fire a bow. Lucy turned with the other half and searched for the orcs. Suddenly all awoke and started swarming in on them. Cries went out to "kill the humans". Lucy could see they were being boxed in and without fully understanding it, she heard a loud roar. She didn't know what creature made the sound, but the orcs seemed scared of it. Regardless of its origins it spurred the orcs to attack her group all the more ferociously.

She knew she had to push through them. "Push them back!" she ordered her archers. "Make a path to the eastern steps!"

On her orders, all humans lined up in two rows. The rear end fired at the orcs on their flanks while those in front shot their way to the stairs Lucy had descended almost one and a half hours earlier. Cutting down an orc in her path, she stood guard at the bottom of the stairs. Esodhal wanted to stay with her, but she urged him on. "Get the others to safety." she commanded. As she hurried the last archer along and ascended the stairs, she noticed an orc had slipped past her arrows. She didn't think or stop.

Loud thumps boomed through the ground and she absently wondered what was making the sound. Was it the same thing that had roared a moment ago? The second she reached ground level, she saw the source of the roar.

"Treebeard!" she called through the commotion. She saw the hobbits on his shoulders gesture for him to help her. Just at that moment the orc that had pursued her, grabbed her leg and yanked her down. The bow slipped out of her hands and sailed across the ground. As she clawed at the grass and ripped out several fingernails she vaguely noticed that Esodhal, Essir and Treebeard were making their way back to her.

The orc managed to yank itself on top of her and pinned her down. She squirmed and shrieked when it made to bite her neck. The second before its teeth sank in, something grabbed it and yanked it several feet into the air. She saw Treebeard hurl the foul creature away from her with a roar of anger.

The hobbits cheered it on. "Are you alright, Lucy?" Pippin called down.

"Yes, yes. I'm, alright." Her hands were shaking and blood was seeping from her ripped fingertips.

"Bewaaaaarrre . . . Queeeeeennnnn Luuucccyyyyy." Treebeard said before he stomped towards Orthanc.

Esodhal and Essir reached her side and pulled her to her feet. "Come! Some of the humans have fled towards Helms Deep, but many are too weak to continue on alone." She was steered towards the tree line where she saw a handful of people waiting. She was panting and felt as if she might faint were it not for Esodhal and Essir holding her arms.

Breathing heavily, she stopped with the others and turned to the two Rohan men. "Thank you,"

They nodded and turned to watch as Orthanc, also known to some as Isengard, was overrun by Ents. With a mighty rumble they saw the dam break and sucked in deep breaths as water cascaded into the deep forges. Safe as they were on the hill, none of the humans felt explicitly happy. There was grief and sorrow mixed in as well. Some relief though, as they watched their own personal hell cave to the crushing masses of the water. Lucy sank to the ground when the enormous wave made the large forges burp and hiss. As the fire died and the smoke cleared she gazed over to see the hobbits laugh with Treebeard. Whatever orcs had been, were now drowned. The only one who remained was the white wizard, alone in his tower.

The hobbits were still cheering. She didn't feel the same exhilaration and sighed. If only she had had their spirit, she thought. If only she was still able to laugh in the face of victory, instead of always wondering when the next battle would come. It was a gift she had not had since her reign.

She glanced over and saw Esodhal on the ground, holding his son.

If only her family had been there.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thanks to the Cretin for all your faithful reviews and great words of encouragement. They mean the world. TBC...


	27. Chapter 27: Blessings in the Keep

**Disclaimer:** As previously mentioned... Oh and those oh so famous lines, staring with: "You couldn't have found a better spot?..."

**AN:** A thanks to all those who are reading. You're the only reason I write. An even bigger thanks to those who take the time to review. The Cretin, Shara Raizel, masaruchan, Minirowan and Early Blessings. There are more and you're all wonderful. These were just some of the names that popped out.

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><p>Chapter 27 – Blessings in the Keep<p>

Peter watched in awe as a row of perfectly synchronized soldiers marched up the ramp of the bastions and entered Helms Deep. There was a very powerful air around them. Aragorn sided up next to him with Legolas and Gimli in tow. All watched with wide smiles as Haldir's face came into view. Aragorn was as happy as Peter to see him again, and lunged down the steps to embrace the elf-lord.

"_Mae-govannen_, Haldir." He smiled and clapped his shoulder lovingly.

Haldir looked a bit surprised, but nodded graciously. Peter moved forward as well and grasped the kind elf in a warm hug. "It's good to see you, Haldir." He smiled and let his joy wash over those who had gathered.

Haldir smiled back. "Likewise, my friend."

Despite the drums approaching and the clouds in the east, at that moment Peter felt almost giddy. The elves, in their quiet splendor, presented an untainted image of hope. Théoden descended to face Haldir with his mouth slightly open. Peter suspected it was the first time he, or anyone outside the Fellowship, had seen elves.

"An allegiance once existed between elves and men," Haldir bowed to the king. "We come to honor that allegiance."

Peter smiled with Aragorn and shared his smile when both glanced at each other. Hope had been restored. Brief words were shared between Théoden and Haldir before the elves were allotted their positions along the wall. Aragorn was to be in charge of leading them, and Théoden would lead the men. Peter had to stop himself from shouting about getting a troop of his own. It was hard for a young man, though he was older than he looked, to put aside old feelings of inadequacy. But he did with a set jaw and joined Legolas and Gimli on the far wall.

The drums were almost deafening now. It made it hard to communicate, and Peter saw fear in many of the Rohans. The drums were doing their job. He glanced at Legolas and the location he had chosen for them.

"You couldn't have found a better spot?" Gimli growled.

Peter covered a snicker at his attempts to hop high enough to see over the wall. Legolas just smiled and looked over the orc army. "They brought torches," he remarked in a calm voice.

Just as he spoke, a drop hit Peter's shoulder. He looked up. Another, and then another, as rain began to fall in all seriousness. Gimli let out a feral growl that made both Peter and Legolas smile. "The rain's a blessing if the Uruk-hai brought fire to do their job for them." Peter said with his eyes on the horizon. He sent a quiet prayer to Aslan and asked for strength to protect his brother. Both Pevensie brothers had long ago learned that it was hard to carry the weight of an entire country on one's shoulders in war. So they had resorted to asking for the strength to protect only those they loved the most. It was all any man could do.

"Wise words," Legolas said. His eyes stayed on the army in front of them.

Peter found himself getting lost in the downpour. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"If we fail, everyone inside dies," Gimli grumbled. He didn't sound discouraged. More eager to rid them of the threat than anything.

"Only think of one, master dwarf." Peter answered. Both the elf and the dwarf looked over at him.

"What do you mean?" Gimli asked.

Peter smiled and repeated the exact words that had been on his mind moments ago. "The weight of the world is too much to bear for any man. Instead," He lowered his head and looked at them both. ". . .only carry _one_ man." He smiled almost serenely at the two of them and lit up when they smiled.

"Wise words, indeed." Legolas repeated and turned his gaze back to the army.

"Well _you_ have your brother and _you_ have Aragorn, but who shall _I_ fight for?" Gimli said in a grouchy voice. It was strange that the words seemed to be at odds with his tone. The gleam in his eyes made Peter smile as he wondered about the dwarf's mental stability.

"Fight for Frodo." Legolas suggested as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

There was a great sigh among the heavens just then. It flew through the atmosphere and caressed the three men with a gentle spray of rain before it lifted and flew east. Legolas' eyes followed it, almost as if he could _see_ the raindrops beings carried to the Ring Bearer. "For Frodo."

"Aye, for Frodo." Gimli repeated. Their excitement lessened slightly and became strength and will as the drums continued.

"What's happening?" Gimli started bouncing again. Both Peter and Legolas smirked.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas looked down with a smirk. "Or would you like me to get you a box?"

Gimli glared up at the tall elf a moment before he broke down into loud and completely inappropriate laughter. The rain had now soaked through their tunics and hauberks. All the men were drenched, but aware of what was at stake. The rain didn't hinder them as much as it could have. Though the armor, lent to him by Théoden, was heavier than any suit Peter had ever worn in Narnia it still felt light.

Horns and stomps replaced the drums and seemed to pound through the earth itself. The moment the army moved forward it was as if a weight was lifted off the shoulders of the Fellowship.

It had begun.

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><p><strong>Inside the keep…<strong>

Edmund was panting. He was too weak to pace, or he would have done so. As he sat, with his right knee bouncing up and down, he wondered what the battleground looked like at that moment. He wondered what Peter felt, and about the layout and strategic advantages or disadvantages until his head spun. He worried for his brother some more, and then started chewing his fingernails. This continued for almost ten minutes as the drums outside were replaced with roars and a clashing of steel against steel. The battle had begun. He rose and started pacing. _Health be damned_. This continued for a few minutes until Eowyn came up to him with a worried expression. He was almost ready to tell her off if she tried to mother him. He wasn't sure he could take anymore well-meant concern.

"King Edmund?" She held a torch in a strong arm. Her left. In her right, she carried a sword.

Edmund sensed there was more to her interruption than mere worry for _him_. "What's wrong?" For an instant he thought something had happened outside that he had failed to notice. He glanced up to reassure himself that the only doors in and out of the caves were two feet from him, and still closed. He frowned. _Well that didn't help_.

"Two of the soldiers went to check the first chamber in caves almost half an hour ago and have yet to return."

Her voice echoed like a metallic bell between the cavern walls, Edmund absentmindedly thought. She was very graceful. As her information sank in it hardly took three seconds for him to make a decision. "Can you take me there?"

She nodded and quickly escorted him to the mouth of the cave. They moved without speaking. Edmund could tell that all eyes were still turned to the gates. That meant Eowyn hadn't shared her concerns with anyone, and for that Edmund was grateful. There was, as of yet, no need to alarm people needlessly. "How deep are the caves?"

"They go all the way to the other side of the mountain. It's a journey of several days," Eowyn looked around with round eyes. "Especially with all the elderly ones."

Edmund grasped her shoulder and almost smirked. _This was how he would help his brother_. "Do you have another sword?"

She nodded and gave him hers. Five other women came over with swords of their own. Most of them looked rusted. But the look in the eyes of the women spoke of power and determination, not to be held back by second class weaponry. Edmund, not one to make biased assumptions based on gender, creed or specie, accepted her sword and studied it critically.

To Eowyn that must have looked like doubt and she immediately became defensive. "These women are skilled fighters, like myself." She accepted an extra sword from one of the others. "We _will_ fight to protect those we love."

Edmund looked up and remembered a time when his brother had said something very similar to him. He nodded without taking his eyes from Eowyn. "As is your right."

She looked a little surprised, but didn't comment on it further.

"How far in is the first chamber?" he asked, still studying the sword. He swung it in a lazy circle to test its balance. It was surprisingly good.

"With a small group it takes only minutes to walk the distance, my Lord."

"Please, call me Edmund. I assume you'll be joining me?"

Eowyn nodded and whispered instructions for a young woman. She then moved to the front of their group with her torch. With a last look back, Edmund smirked. He had never been good at waiting anyway.

Only four of them carried torches. He tried once to ask Eowyn if he should carry it, as chivalry dictated. It was the same reason that kept him evenly paced by her side, even though she knew the caves and he did not. Years of having lessons in etiquette pounded into his skull had ensured that some habits would forever remain.

Eowyn again took it as a slight, but quickly realized it wasn't. Edmund, on the other hand, realized that women of Rohan were probably not _allowed_ to fight in wars. And maybe even slotted into boxes of 'ladies' or 'trollops'. Such gender distinctions had never existed in Narnia. Well they had, but they weren't limited to those two. He had experienced such bias in Calormen and hadn't quite understood it there either. Some of his most skilled fighters in Narnia had been women. His own sisters, even. Susan with her archery and Lucy with the twin-daggers she received for her fourteenth birthday.

"The tunnel breaks into two separate lines about fifty leagues ahead," Eowyn said and pointed the torch forward.

"Which one leads to the chamber?"

"The right-hand one."

Edmund sighed. "Right. Let's hope they left some kind of clue as to which direction they went." he answered, and kept his eyes ahead of the flame. If he looked straight into that thing he'd be blind in the darkness.

Eowyn looked at him with growing anxiety. "You do not wish to separate?"

"Not if I can help it."

She continued to stare at him, but said nothing more. True to her word, it took them only a couple of minutes to walk the distance to the first chamber. It was rather large. A slightly domed ceiling filled with sparkling stalactites ballooned out high above their heads. Edmund noticed that it was riddled with tunnels, inaccessible to humans. "Tell me, Lady Eowyn, what exactly makes you so worried for the two soldiers? They could simply have gone ahead." He glanced over at her and noticed that the wide-eyed expression hadn't yet left her face.

"They were under strict orders only to go to the first chamber and then return. They were our guides should-" She swallowed.

Edmund knew what she meant. _Should the soldiers fail_. "And what do you think happened to them?"

She shifted her gaze around in nervous jerks. Water was running down the walls and even the smallest drop made her twitch.

"What scares you so?" Edmund suddenly found her expression very interesting.

"Children's stories," She tried to smile and huff it off as a bad jest, but he caught onto her nervousness and dug in.

"What stories?"

She stopped and gestured for the others to stop. "Nightmares live in these tunnels," Edmund frowned at her to prompt an elaboration. "Goblins." she answered with a low shiver in her voice. Her eyes were still scanning the darkness.

"Goblins? As in. . ." Edmund knew very little about them except from what he had read in children's books. There were none in Narnia that he had ever seen.

"They're small. About two heads lower than you. They're said to sound like birds," She looked around almost as if she could hear them. "And they kill and eat everything that crosses their path."

Edmund gulped. "How many are there?"

"There's no way to know. They live deep underground and most that see them never live to tell about it. I _have_ heard one story though," She looked straight at him. "A group of men ventured deep into distant caves one day and found their city. There were thousands of them, led by a goblin-king."

"Who told you this story?" It was morbid curiosity really, and not an actual need to know, that drove him to ask that question. Before she could answer he suddenly stiffened. He was sure he heard something.

Eowyn was looking in the same direction. "A man, who supposedly knew someone who escaped."

"I thought you said people never escaped?" Edmund was dead certain that time. A loud, solitary chirp had echoed through the tunnels.

"I did,"

"Tell me, Eowyn," He looked up at the tunnel exits in the ceiling. "Can they climb walls?" Loud, inhuman shrieks reached their ears and panic began to form like a lump in Edmund's chest.

"Yes." Her voice was deep and terrified.

"I think those stories might be more than stories," He was backing up and had an arm out for her to back up as well. Slowly they retreated and gestured for the women behind them to do the same. Everyone present could now hear the growls and shrieks.

"But the soldiers. . ."

Edmund caught sight of a shimmer in the corner of the chamber that he hadn't noticed upon entering. It looked like a shield. "They're dead,"

"I can't leave them." Eowyn sounded on the verge of panic and Edmund doubted she would be able to move out of fright should the goblins come.

"Tell me, is there a way to seal off the tunnels from the cave under Helms Deep?" He looked at her.

Her eyes were still scanning the darkness. "No, but we created supporters along the sides of the entrance that we can collapse."

"Alright," Edmund was thinking how to collapse supporters without making the cavern ceiling beneath Helms Deep collapse as well.

Suddenly a woman's cry pierced the silence. It came from behind them, and both Edmund and Eowyn turned. Only to realize they were all alone. "Stala? Halfin?" Eowyn's frightened voice echoed and was mingled with shrieks and yelps. "Gwinthel!" she cried into the darkness. More shrieks sounded behind them as well.

"They're boxing us in," Edmund realized with a sinking feeling. "We have to get out of here!"

They turned and started running through the chamber.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Be still my beating heart! It ends rather suddenly, but picks up from this exact spot in the next chapter. Though it might be a couple of days since I've got a couple of school papers to write and a cold to conquer, I _will_ update at the beginning of next week.


	28. Chapter 28: Helms Deep

**Disclaimer:** Still no sale

**Author's Note:** I. Just. Can't. Stop.

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><p>Chapter 28 – Helms Deep<p>

"_They're boxing us in," Edmund realized with a sinking feeling. "We have to get out of here!"_

He grabbed Eowyn's arm and pulled her along. The chamber narrowed and a tunnel appeared. "This the right tunnel?" he called.

Eowyn hesitated. "I-I do not know. We've moved from our original path," She looked down as she said this.

"How do you know?"

"We mark the exits in and out of each chamber with a paste that never fades."

"Ochre?" Edmund asked.

She stared wide-eyed at him. "We call it Meader." She screamed when a shriek sounded dangerously close.

"But it's red?"

"Yes," She nodded.

Edmund nodded in return. "Alright. Do any of the exits cross over with the exit-tunnel into Helms Deep?"

"I-I. . ." Shrieks sounded all around them now. The sound of feet, shuffling across rock, as well.

"Eowyn!"

"I don't know!"

"Damn." he snarled and pulled her along the back wall. It narrowed and broke into several exits. To make it even more difficult the floor around each exit was uneven in the most extreme sense of the word. Some exits were marked by a huge chasm running the length of it while others barely had a stalactite to see. Then suddenly: "There!" He saw a red smear on the floor and followed it. "Is this it?"

Eowyn stared down with wide eyes. "I don't know. It's usually wider."

"But this has to mean it intersects with the tunnel back, right?" Edmund didn't want to admit it, but he was getting very frightened. He had the feeling that the goblins were herding them somewhere. And the claustrophobia sneaking up on him did not help.

"I'm not sure. Either it leads back to Helms Deep or it leads deeper into the mountain."

His face fell. He could understand why she was concerned about making the wrong decision. If they risked going deeper into the mountain they would be swallowed up by the darkness. He looked around when the shrieks silenced. Now they could only hear feet, scratching across the floor very close by. "What are they waiting for?" They kept just outside the light from the torch, but Edmund imagined he sometimes felt an exhale next to his ear. Saw orbs of light reflected back at him.

"Here," Eowyn suddenly pointed towards the tunnel. "We either run or we stay and die." Suddenly she seemed to have discovered her courage.

Edmund took a deep breath as well. "We run."

And they did. They sped down the tunnel, hoping it would overlap with the one they had come by. The cave tunnels came alive with a scratching sound of claws, and shrieks. Edmund was concerned that he no longer heard any sound from the way they were heading. Whatever those beasts were, they had been there moments before. Now they seemed to have vanished.

"In stories they always used bows," Eowyn forced out between gasps.

"Then why don't they shoot?" Edmund was only fairing slightly better. His bruises and stiff muscles were stretching and pulling beyond what was good for him. And the jog wasn't doing much to relieve that pain.

"I don't kn-Ahr!" Her scream ripped through the air like a knife when the ground vanished under her feet. Edmund's hand shot out and grabbed hers at the last second. The torch slipped from her hand, and as it plummeted down the chasm he saw black creatures scrambling up the walls.

Blackness swallowed them whole. It suddenly felt harder to breathe. Moving only on instinct, he tightened his grip and dropped the sword. He had landed hard on the cave floor with Eowyn hanging onto his hand. His breath wheezed and pain flared up his side. It was one of his bent ribs that had probably just broken. His face scrunched into a frown as the pain made his breathing harder. Had there been light to see by he felt sure he vision would have been dotted.

"Don't let go!" she cried.

He tried to shake the image of goblins, scaling the cavern walls, and focused on hanging onto her. Her nails were digging into his wrist and his fingers wanted nothing more than to release the clamped grip and rid themselves of the pain. He growled and tried to relieve some of the pressure on his left side. "See if you can find footing!" he shouted. He heard her scrambling her feet.

More hisses and low yelps sounded behind him as Eowyn worked to find purchase.

"Do you have it?"

She grunted. "Yes!"

"When I say, push off."

He forced his free hand underneath himself to balance her weight. "NOW!" She tugged on his wrist as she tried to climb out of the chasm. He could feel the metacarpal bones in his entire left hand shifting under the pressure, and didn't doubt that some of them were broken or dislocated.

With a last grunt Eowyn pushed off from the ledge and flopped onto her back, as Edmund pulled her the rest of the way. For a moment she looked as if she intended to rest, but the young king pulled her up. "No time," His breath wheezed.

The darkness was mocking them. "I dropped my sword." She noticed the yelps and stiffened.

"Then mine'll have to do." He dropped to his knees and fumbled blindly for it. His fingers caressed something smooth and cold and he pulled it closer. He ran his uninjured hand over it and frowned. It was round and flat, and splashed inside a little, when he tipped it around. It was a bottle of liquid, he realized.

"Edmund?" Eowyn kneeled next to him when the sounds stilled again. "What's happening?"

"One moment, my Lady." He said breezily, trying to make light of the situation. He kept reaching blindly through the darkness until his hand fingered a piece of leather around the bottle. A round bottle bound in leather. He tried very hard to think _why_ that was important. He let his fingers travel over its shape. Leather, designed to be hooked on a belt. "No. . ." _It couldn't be_.

"My Lord?" Eowyn was shaking. Suddenly the sound of steel, grating over rock came from her side.

"Eowyn!" Edmund cried, in fear it was a goblin attacking to her.

"It's alright I have the sword,"

As she said it, Edmund's own hand slid over a little mound of trash. He felt closer and identified something in the shape of a sword, wrapped in leather. "I found one as well,"

"What?"

He didn't need light to tell him that the young woman was sending him a confused look. "A sword. Heavier than the one you lent me."

"Well, take it," She attempted to pull a legs under her, but Edmund held her back.

"Wait." he whispered.

"What?"

His hands felt something that could only be a bow string. His fingers nicked something that could only be an arrowhead. When the shrieks suddenly intensified right next to them he gripped the bow string, the sword and the bottle, and swung all three items blindly in front of him. Eowyn was at his back, moving around to his side.

"Did you see how high the ceiling was?" he panted. His muscles were burning and his head was pounding. His chest ached. Even in complete and utter darkness he could tell he was on the verge of complete exhaustion.

"No. High enough for both of us to run."

"And just low enough for something to reach down."

Eowyn realized what he was getting at. She heard the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. It was a beautiful sound. Like a clean silver bell compared to the screeches. The goblins heard it as well and screeched in panic. Edmund moved in a low crouch and pulled Eowyn behind him. The goblins screamed louder in protest over something.

And _then_ they heard it. It was the sound of distant human voices. "Where are they coming from?" Eowyn asked.

"Doesn't matter. There's only one way to go." Edmund pulled them along in the darkness in the direction they had just come from. They were moving extremely slow. Ed was swinging the sword in front of him like the cane of a blind man, hoping to hit anything that might make a pass at them. He also desperately hoped that no goblins slipped past them in the tunnel and snuck up from behind. "Keep your ears open to sounds from behind," he whispered. He figured, better safe than sorry.

"_Lady Eowyn!_" a female voice suddenly called.

"Here!" Eowyn screamed and waved her arms, though the darkness made it impossible for anyone to see. _Except maybe the goblins_. Edmund figured they had night vision or perhaps oriented themselves via sonar like bats.

In her exuberance Eowyn wanted to run towards the voices, but Edmund held on. "Keep walking." he said in a calm voice. "We'll reach them, just keep walking." What Eowyn hadn't heard was that the shrieks had almost disappeared completely when the distant cries interrupted them. Together they half stumbled, half jogged through the dark tunnel until a flickering, yellow light reached them.

"Lady Eowyn?"

"Praise Eru. . ." She sounded like she was smiling. "We're here!" The light grew in strength.

The first thing Edmund did was to watch his step. The second was to switch places with Eowyn and put himself at her back. "Do you see any movement in front?" he whispered.

"No." Eowyn called back, laughing.

"My Lady!" More voices joined the first one.

Edmund swallowed and pushed her towards the voices. He didn't want her to know what he had seen in the first seconds of light. The creatures he had seen covering the tunnel walls. "Draw your swords!" he called instead.

He heard the sounds of steel grazing leather. "Morwen!" Eowyn cried in relief. The two women embraced behind Edmund's back.

"We saw you disappear into the tunnels and became concerned when you didn't return."

"Bless you, Morwen! Bless you for coming to our aid!" Eowyn cried.

More women appeared, carrying torches. They looked from Edmund's back to Eowyn. "What happened, my lady?"

Just then, Edmund heard the faint sound of an angry hiss. "It's still happening!" He turned and pushed Eowyn in front of him. The other women moved to make room for the two charging people. "Move!"

Little more than fifteen women had ventured into the tunnels with whatever weapons they could find and torches. They had split up into three large groups. One group posted at the first divide in the tunnels, one group at the entrance to the chamber and a third near the tunnel Edmund and Eowyn had taken. It turned out he and Eowyn had discovered an exit that had caved in years before. They would never have survived had they continued that way.

The shrieks rose in intensity. "You said thousands?" he asked as they ran back the way they had come. Adrenalin was easing his breathing slightly.

Eowyn looked behind her and saw black creatures crawling up the walls and out of holes like ants. She screamed and ran faster. Morwen and the other women were chased back to the mouth of Helms Deep where everyone else now also heard the sound of a goblin-army clawing through the tunnels. Just as they reached the well-lit cave Edmund skid to a stop, panting. "We have to collapse the tunnels."

Eowyn called for hammers, which several women brought over. They handed Eowyn and Edmund one each and followed them a few feet into the tunnel. The shrieks were now so loud it could only mean the goblins were upon them.

"Smash the wooden splints into the support beams." Eowyn called.

Edmund looked at the beams she had indicated and saw that large wooden stakes were imbedded into each of them.

"First row!" Eowyn called.

Two women in front of Edmund smashed the stakes into the beams and ran. A mighty rumble vibrated his chest.

"Second row!"

Edmund put all his remaining strength into smashing the stake, and ran. Another woman next to him did the same.

"Third row!" Eowyn called and smashed her own beam before she turned and ran. "Get those people back!" The tunnel was already collapsing as she called out and people hurried out of its way.

A huge cloud of dust rose into the air, and a loud rumble filled the entire keep. Edmund wouldn't be surprised if they heard it outside. The ground shook for several seconds after. "Everybody settle!" he shouted. People were running for the doors and kicking up more dust. And Edmund couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a black, lanky body throw itself at Eowyn as she ran for the cave mouth. He drew the sword he'd pulled from the darkness and reveled in the crisp hiss of steel against leather. It gave him the confidence to step into the dust-cloud and wait.

He squinted when the dust began to settle. There was commotion at the gates. Women's voices mixing with men's. Apparently the knights of Rohan _had_ heard the magnificent rumble. He frowned when a prone, black body came into view through the dust. He moved closer and saw it was half buried under rubble. Skinny arms, with gnarled fingers and claws, jutted out from a crushed torso. The goblin's mouth was open in a frozen scream as it stared into nothingness. He poked it with the tip of the sword to make sure it was dead. Only then did he really notice what he was holding.

Through the durst, still thickening the air and muddling his mind, he saw a pommel shaped like a lion's head. "No. . ." His disbelieving whisper echoed in the thick air around him.

"Edmund!" Eowyn called from somewhere far away.

He turned, still holding the sword, staring at it. He began making his way towards the front entrance where women were shouting for the soldiers to let them out.

"It's alright!" Edmund commanded. His deep voice carried through the din of screams and shouts. "They're dead. The cave is still holding. You're all still safe." He made his way up and saw a familiar guard at the door.

"My Lord." He bowed quickly to Edmund with an indeterminable look in his eye.

Edmund suspected he looked even worse than the first time they met. He frowned as he tried to remember the guard's name. "Gaa-something. . .?"

"Gamling, my Lord."

"Very good." Edmund stepped up the stairs with the confidence of a king. "I need to speak with my brother, Gamling."

The soldier looked from Edmund to Eowyn in surprise. He noticed the young king carried several dusty looking items. One of which was a finely decorated sword, unlike any he had ever seen. He nodded and let him through. Eowyn huffed and followed him without asking Gamling's permission.

"We must face them." Aragorn was arguing with king Théoden as Edmund entered the room.

"Edmund!" His brother ran towards him with worry in his eyes. "We heard an explosion and thought they had gotten inside somehow."

Edmund stopped him with a hand in the air. "The tunnels collapsed." His voice carried enough for King Théoden to hear. For _all_ to hear. He sounded oddly calm. Regal.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. All eyes turned to the youngest king, who now looked ten times worse than he had upon arrival. Old wounds had reopened and yellow dust covered him from head to toe. As it did with Eowyn.

"We went into the caves because the soldiers didn't return," Eowyn explained to her uncle, from behind him.

"What did you find?" Aragorn asked in fear.

"Goblins." Edmund answered calmly. Peter was examining his face and neck with a fierce frown.

"What?" the Rohan king snapped.

"What's that in your hand?" Peter interrupted, as his attention was suddenly drawn to the very familiar shapes in his brother's grip.

Edmund smiled and pulled out Susan's bow, which had snapped in half. Peter took it with a frown, as if not quite believing what he was seeing. "Why's it broken?"

Ed grinned and accepted it back, where he gently hooked it on his belt. "Because someone decided to use it as a club?" Next he kneeled almost without groaning, and produced the sheathed sword. He held it up to his brother and frowned when nothing happened. Peter still had the same dumbstruck look on his face. "An old friend," Edmund said with a small smile over his brother's confusion.

Peter stared from the sword to his brother, and reached for it slowly. "Rhindon," His voice was full of awe. His fingers grasped the hilt much the same way Théoden had not three days prior. The golden lion smiled up at him as he drew the sword from its dusty sheath with a singing of steel.

Edmund gained his feet with a silly smile. "Like I said. An old friend." He smirked at his brother. "Along with something else." He pulled out the bottle that was indeed Lucy's cordial.

Peter stared at the little item in quiet shock.

"It's just a sword and a bottle," Gimli growled from a few feet away. He looked like couldn't understand what all the fuss was about.

"It's _my_ sword." Peter whispered. Though he only spoke in a soft voice, everyone heard it. His whisper carried through the stone hall like a shout.

"_Your_ sword, _Lucy's_ cordial and _Susan's_ bow." Edmund specified.

Peter looked up at him with his mouth agape. "You think Aslan brought them here?"

Edmund shrugged with a flash of gold in his eyes as an idea struck him. "It would explain the time difference," He gestured to the narrow windows where the sky was beginning to brighten. Peter followed his gaze, lost in a line of thought which his brother interrupted. "You remember the caves he mentioned to us at Beaversdam?"

"Or course," Peter had forgotten why the sight of dawn brought such a wave of hope. He had returned to the study of his old sword. In the background he heard Théoden carry on a low conversation with Aragorn. The soldiers around them dispanded and began readying themselves.

"You remember how he brought the Telmarines back home through one?" Edmund caught his brother's eye and smiled when Peter realized what he was saying.

"You think that was one of those caves."

"As I said, it explains the time difference. It felt as if we were in there an hour, if not less. But here it's been almost a full night."

"One of _which_ caves?" Théoden interrupted.

Peter, much too preoccupied with this sudden epiphany, turned to the king and smiled. "Aslan spoke of openings between different worlds. He mentioned there was one in our world that led to England. I think my brother just found one that leads to Middle-Earth." He turned back to his brother and sheathed the sword. He studied Edmund's face and Lucy's little cordial. Their eyes met and Peter almost smiled. "There's not much left."

Edmund frowned and twirled the bottle in his hands. "I think the goblins have been drinking of it without knowing what it does." He growled in dissatisfaction. "Fortunate for us it only works a few moments after ingesting it."

"Take a drop." Peter said enthusiastically.

But Edmund shook his head. "It's not mine, remember?"

"I'm sure if Lucy were here she would _force_ you to drink it." Peter arched a brow.

Edmund shook his head again. He _was_ hurting and desperately sore, but it just felt wrong. There was so little left. "We should save it for those who really need it-"

"Edmund take a drop." Peter's voice became stern.

"What will it do?" Legolas asked.

"It heals all wounds."

"But it doesn't cure blood loss or exhaustion or any of the other thousand side effects of being severely injured." Edmund answered Legolas, while really addressing his brother.

"Ed, drink it." Peter's voice rumbled dangerously.

Edmund swallowed nervously. He was worried his brother might actually force him if he didn't do it voluntarily. Peter arched his brow again as if reading his brother's mind and agreeing with him.

"Drink it." His voice softened to a desperate plea.

Edmund pulled the stopper from the bottle with trembling fingers.

"Wait! If this tonic heals injuries, give it to someone who _really_ needs it!" Théoden tried to command.

Remembering their earlier argument, Peter's shoulders stiffened. "This is beyond your understanding and control, Théoden." He turned to look at the king as he spoke. "This belongs to the people of Narnia, _not_ to you," He looked at the wound the king had been dealt to his side. ". . .or _your_ wounds."

King Théoden frowned in confusion before he followed the young king's eye line down to his own injury. He gritted his teeth when he realized what Peter was insinuating. "I would not think to drink it for myself. It is for my people who are dying as we speak!"

Edmund put the stopper back in. "I won't take a life because I'm in a little pain, Peter."

His brother turned back on him with a furious expression. "Drink!"

"No."

"I could make it an order if that'll make you feel better." Peter was livid, but Edmund remained passive.

"You could, but not even Aslan could get me to drink from this bottle. I would sooner smash it." Edmund stared his brother squarely in the eye.

Unnoticed by both of them, all were looking in their direction with wide eyes. This was the same anger they had seen in Peter the previous day, when Théoden tried to force his brother to fight. The same anger that was now met by a pair of cool, brown eyes. The two brothers were like fire and ice as they stared each other down.

"Ed-"

He leaned in and whispered desperately. "Please don't make me the cause of someone dying," the youngest Pevensie pleaded.

Peter watched his brother with wide eyes, not knowing how to respond. In the silence everyone returned to their own business.

Suddenly all heard Théoden's low voice. "So much death," He sounded as if the last nail had finally been driven into his coffin. "What can men do against such reckless hate?"

Peter looked longingly at the king before they slid back to Edmund. He wished his brother would just do as he was told. _Just this once_.

Aragorn's voice cut through the tense silence. "Ride out with me. Ride out and greet them." Everyone in the room turned to see him staring at the king. His eyes had rekindled as he stared into Aragorn's. "Show Saruman that Rohan will not lay down and die." he said in a passionate voice.

The king looked as if he had been shook. "For death and glory. . ."

"For _Rohan_." Aragorn leaned closer. "For your _people_."

Peter watched in enthrallment as Aragorn convinced the broken king with nothing but words and sheer will. _This_ was a king. This was a man who could lead an army of fifty men and still emerge victorious against an army of thousand. _This_ was the man Peter had once been. "I stand by my word, King Théoden," The king looked at the young, fair-haired man. "I will stand with you no matter what you decide."

He could almost see how their faith in Théoden made them come back to life. He felt better for it. It reminded him of his last trip to Narnia where he had learned what it meant to relinquish responsibility. He turned to Edmund. "Drink the cordial and ride out with us," He kept his eyes bright in the hopes that his faith would infect his little brother.

Edmund shook his head. "If that's the price, then I'd rather suffer." He saddened. "I'm sorry, Peter." He shook his head. "I can't in good faith do this."

Peter saddened as well, but the fire didn't leave his eyes. "You _will_ drink that cordial, Edmund Pevensie." He clapped the bottle back into Edmund's hands. "Regardless if you think you're worthy or not."

Edmund watched in absent shock as horses were brought out. His brother joined the men and Edmund was struck with a strange longing.

"The sun is rising," Gimli shrewdly said.

The king looked in the same direction Peter had only moments ago. As he did, Peter remembered why this would be a good day. "Yes. . ." The king came to life before the eyes of the Fellowship for a second time since meeting him. He received the reins to his horse.

Peter mounted along with the others. "Yes." Théoden raised his sword and called for bravery among his men. "The Horn of Helm Hammerhand will sound in the deep one last time."

The dwarf bounced in bloody delight. "Yes!" He hurried up the steps leading to the tower.

"Now for wrath," the king hissed atop his horse.

Peter and Edmund shared a long look across the room.

"Now for ruin. . ."

"Edmund, get back in the caves!" Axis reared back on its hind legs and Peter tore his eyes from his brother. He sent a swift prayer to Aslan and kissed his long missed sword.

Théoden looked to Aragorn who drew his sword and nodded. "For the red dawn!"

Ed turned and sprinted as two knights opened the front gates. The Uruks pushed into the room, but barely noticed as the gates in the back slammed closed. Behind the oak doors, Eowyn looked at him mutely. Edmund searched her eyes, but found only understanding as they lowered the crossbeam together. They heard Théoden's war cry and the following silence as the Uruks followed the small company outside.

High above them all, Gimli had reached the outpost and blew the giant horn. A deep bellow, the likes of which had not been heard in Helms Deep for centuries, pulsated through the valley. Edmund stepped back with a hand on his borrowed sword and watched the door wearily. He felt so tired. When nothing happened to indicate the Uruks were attempting to break through, he turned and let his eyes wander over those in the caves. The sword by his side was the one given to Peter by Galadriel. He huffed when he realized he had yet again, been overlooked in the gift-giving process.

"They will succeed." Eowyn said by his side. She had a sword ready as well.

He nodded and looked down, then turned his front to the gates once again.

"Why not take the cordial?" she asked in a quizzing tone.

He looked into her piercing stare and shrunk a little. "It's not mine,"

"Your sister's?"

He nodded.

"Would she not approve?"

Edmund huffed and smirked. "She'll give me the shouting of a lifetime when she hears I didn't drink it the second I found it." He looked around the large cave and thought about making a round among the wounded.

"Then why do you not drink?"

He shook his head and refused to answer. "Here," He held the cordial out to her. "You should take it and give it to your people."

She shook her head and closed his fingers around the bottle. "If you do not, then how can I in good faith take it? Are you not as deserving as anyone else in this place?" She gestured weakly to the mass of wounded soldiers, old and sick.

Edmund shook his head. "It's not about that-"

"Is it not?"

He looked up sharply. "It's not mine to take." That excuse was sounding weaker and weaker to his own ears.

She looked at him in a way he had only ever been looked at by Susan. "Do you not wish to aid your brother?"

"What?" He paled and then blushed when he realized what she was insinuating. "I've overseen countless battles by my brother's side."

"There is no shame. Not all are meant for war-"

"I'm a king!" He could feel his ire towards this woman rising and yet she continued to gaze at him patiently.

"Was I allowed, I would not have stopped for anything to be by my uncle's side."

He huffed and choked back the words he would have uttered. He didn't want to offend her, and what's more, he was starting to feel she was right. "Would _you_ have taken it?" He looked at her and pulled back his adolescent emotions.

She smirked. "I would."

"If I take a drop," He held up a hand when she smiled, about to interrupt. "will you give the rest to those who need it?" He raised his eyes slowly and found her still smiling.

She nodded. "Only those who will not survive without it or who wish to continue fighting."

He nodded in reply as he gazed at the small diamond bottle. The amber liquid lopped around on the bottom. It was more yellow, really, now that it had been so severely depleted. He pulled out the stopper and tipped it carefully over his mouth. A tiny, warm drop hit his tongue and instantly he could feel his wounds begin to heal. The broken bones fused back together. Cuts closed and bruises faded. It wouldn't remove the bruising completely, only close existing lacerations in veins and ruptured blood vessels. The clotted blood would take longer to clear.

He looked back into her eyes. Already he felt better. He had not realized how much the sheer pain he was in had drained him. Now that he was pain free he felt rejuvenated. He handed the bottle over to her.

She accepted with a little nod. "There should be horses in the side chamber. It's a stable inside the keep with armored doors, so the Uruk-hai should not have breached it."

"Thank you," He looked towards the doors.

"You won't need a key." She nodded and urged him on. "I'll barricade the gate behind you. Morwen?"

As Morwen approached the two of them, Edmund moved towards the gates. "For wrath and ruin," he sighed.

Eowyn smiled as she and Morwen raised the crossbeam. "For life and victory."

With one last look, he snuck out into the main hall and found it empty. The gates to the keep were wide open with not a soul in sight. Silence like that of an abandoned city thickened the air. As the doors closed behind him, he heard a grouchy voice and thumping steps. He looked up. "Gimli?"

The dwarf stopped in insecurity a moment, before he broke into a wide smile. "You look a heap better, lad." He waved him over. "Come. Help me saddle one of those beasts and ride out with me. It seemed the elf fancied I wouldn't mind being left behind."

Edmund smiled over his good-natured grumbling. It was dwarf-nature to be belligerent and often it only meant they cared enough to bother. As they pulled out a sturdy bay mare, Edmund grasped the sword and smiled. It turned out Peter was right after all.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> As you've now noticed the Pevensies have been reunited with some old friends of theirs. It felt appropriate :)


	29. Chapter 29: East Emnet

**Disclaimer:** I looked and looked, but no matter how far I traveled I never reached that magic world where _I_ wrote all the great stories and the famous authors copied _me_.

**Author's Note:** Yay for Shara Raizel for delivering the 100'th review in the box! Woop!

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><p>Chapter 29 – East Emnet<p>

The cloud cover was so thick, the sky was barely visible. Only the grey light that set the Rohan plains in a bleak sheen signaled to Susan and Gandalf that it was day. Nimzülae and Shadowfaxe were matching each other's stride.

They had broken from a gallop to a brisk canter. Susan was panting slightly and scanning the flat plains. "How do you know we're going the right way?" she asked the wizard to her right.

The old man was scouting the horizon and stopped Shadowfaxe suddenly, as if he spotted something that needed further examination. "There are many kinds of trails to follow. One should always use his nose when hunting orcs, the saying goes," he glanced at her and smirked.

Susan smiled. "We had a saying like that in Narnia," He arched a brow in question. "Never look to the sky to track a fox." She huffed and smiled when she was reminded of the wise Fox who once shared the advice with her. The first ally in a new world. "Which sense should I use to track men?"

The white wizard smirked again. "It is a very particular sense which enables us to search out our own race. I would call it 'feeling'." His eyes had drifted to the horizon as he spoke. "Every human being leaves behind emotions in their wake. A sense that is often evident to other species. Horses, dogs and other creatures alike. Elves, on the other hand, leave no such trail and have little ability to sense it," His voice became distant. "They have moved across this earth like currents through water."

"If they're the current, then what are we?" Susan smiled.

"The fish." he said with a whimsical expression.

She chuckled, but shuddered when a gust of cold air slipped under her cloak. "How come I can't feel it?"

"All that is needed is a little practice. What do you feel at present?"

"A little cold," She smiled again when he chuckled, but quickly sobered. "And lost. . . A little lost."

He nodded sagely. "And what did you sense from Eomer when you first encountered him?"

"Anger." She frowned in remembrance. "And desolation." Her eyes saddened as she gazed over the plains. "He looked lost as well." she answered and realized _that_ was the 'feeling' Gandalf was referring to.

He nodded. "You're quite right. I suspect your natural empathy will work _for_ us this instance."

"How so?"

"You, my dear Queen, have a natural ability to, not only distinguish, but _sense_, the feelings of others. That is an ability many lack." He glanced at her with a smirk. "I'm surprised your siblings never mentioned as much."

"They have," She frowned. "I just never listened."

The older man nodded somberly and spent another minute gazing over the terrain. Shadowfaxe neighed impatiently. "And what does your sense of loss tell you now?"

She let her eyes drift south-east, lost in thought and a sense of longing.

He followed her line of sight. "Very astute." He sighed. "Very well. East we fly. Towards East Emnet." He kicked Shadowfaxe into another gallop and Susan urged Nimzülae to follow. "Across the river Entwash, through the shallows, and pick up the trail from there."

"Are you sure you trust my emotions to lead us on the right path?" she called as they galloped.

"When we cross the river we will not have to rely on feelings to follow their trail. It will be carved in mud and stone for all of Middle-Earth to see. Eomer commands a thousand men or more. Such a trail is not easily hidden."

They sped across the plains so fast Susan could do little but cling to Nimzülae's neck and pray she didn't fall off. They didn't slow their speed until they reached the river. Gandalf was right. Further up and down stream it swelled and deepened in dangerous whirls and currents. The only crossing Susan could see from their vantage point was directly in front of them. She looked at Gandalf's back and wondered how many times he had crossed this river in his lifetime.

"We have our trail." He smiled with his eyes fixed on the opposite bank. True enough; the grass there was trod down into a pool of mud. A sure indicator that a large company had passed. They guided their Maeras through the cold water and set off in a gallop on the other side. Swift as the northern winds they rode. Seen from a distance they were but two flecks of silver and white.

This was how Eomer first spotted them from his perch next to a scout; two snowflakes in a sea of green. "Company," he muttered to the scout at his side. "Alert Gjessir and the men. Tell them the enemy approaches."

The scout nodded and left. The éored was holed up in a ravine on the eastern side of the river Entwash, which divided East- from West Emnet. Ragged cliffs tore through the lush, grassy fields like the black bones of giants.

As the intruders approached, Eomer's face darkened. Gjessir had returned with the guard. "The men are ready and await your command, my lord."

Eomer hardly heard the words. "Tell me, Gjessir, my friend: What do you see?"

Gjessir followed his master's line of sight. "I see two horses, carrying two men."

Eomer frowned rapidly at the word 'men'. "Not two men. A woman and a white wizard."

Both the soldier and Gjessir, his second in command, sucked in a breath. "Saruman?"

Eomer didn't answer with anything but another order. "Prepare the men. Tell them the right hand of Sauron has found us. The war is here." As he spoke, his words quickened. "Go. Now."

Suddenly, as if a surge of lightning had gone through the éored, all mounted and drew swords.

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><p>The wizard and the young woman saw several hundred horses flow from hidden crevasses in the cliffs. "Are they <em>mobilizing<em>?" Susan asked.

Her companion slowed Shadowfaxe to a slow trot – his face, white and concerned. "Fear drives Eomer and thus his men."

She glanced at him in shock at the realization that they might never make it close enough to convince Eomer of their honest intentions. A lone war cry roared across the plains and was answered by the rapidly mobilizing knights. "Will they attack?"

"It is very likely, but do not falter." he said as she unconsciously slowed Nimzülae's pace. "If we are to have any hope at all, we must face Eomer. _Make_ him see reason."

She obediently sided up next to Shadowfaxe with nervousness running through her.

Eomer drew his sword. Springir – his horse – was bouncing agitatedly on its forelegs. "Rohirrim!" A loud and synchronized salute answered their leader's call. It wasn't an order to attack, but a show of discipline and thereby force.

Susan and Gandalf calmly approached Eomer and his men. It seemed as if the lines of knights grew with every passing minute. Susan speculated there were about seven hundred. And more kept falling in line, ready to fight if provoked.

"Do not attack, Eomer of the House of Eorl. We come in peace," the wizard called. He and Susan drew close enough to notice the shock on Eomer's face as he recognized her. "I knew your father." he continued.

Eomer's eyes looked wild. "Lies!" His furious glare was directed at Susan. "The white hand of Isengard comes spreading poison along with Saruman's _whore_!"

Susan bristled by the anger in his voice. Hurt and astonishment flashed across her face and almost made Eomer retract his words. But before he could, she was consumed by righteous anger. "I am Queen!" Her sharp bark removed any lingering doubt among the men. "And you will address me as such or _not at all_!" she hissed with a fierce scowl on her face. Nimzülae huffed and whickered at Eomer. Susan had no doubt the mare understood and resented his disrespectful address as much as herself.

He glared daggers at her from atop Springir. "I have no respect for traitors and cowards."

"Don't you _DARE_ call me a traitor-"

"Enough!" the powerful wizard bellowed. His voice darkened several octaves to something barely human. Something so sinister it scared everyone into submission. Even Susan and Eomer. He nudged Shadowfaxe forward. "If I were a minion of Sauron, and a coward as you say, would I have appeared before you in the manner I have?" He watched Eomer falter and continued in a softer voice. "Would I have showed up at all? Would I not have sent an army of beasts to slay you where you stood?" He looked each man on the frontline in the eye. "I am not Saruman as he _is_. I am Saruman as he _should be_."

Eomer frowned, but appeared calmer. "Your words mean little."

His face softened into something more reminiscent of a man his age – almost into a sad smile. "You know me, Eomer. See my face and not my robe. Look into my eyes and see the truth," He calmly waited as Eomer looked at him with an enchanted expression.

"Gandalf. . ." he whispered. His mouth hung slightly open.

Susan was still simmering with rage. This was the second time he had insulted her and he had yet to offer a single word of apology. Beneath her, Nimzülae vibrated in anger as well.

"How is this possible?" Eomer asked in shock.

"It is a story for calmer times," Gandalf answered in a soft voice and then continued. "But we must make haste. Time flies against us." Susan thought he sounded almost as a grandfather addressing his grandchildren.

The Rohan knight frowned.

"At this very moment, Saruman's army marches towards Helms Deep. To your uncle."

Eomer's face soured. "I have been robbed of what family I once had, by the worm, Grima, son of Gálmód."

Gandalf nodded. "Grima works for Saruman. The spell that bound Théoden King, your uncle, has been lifted." Somehow, not a soul present, doubted that it was Gandalf himself who had lifted the curse. "The spy has been banished." He spoke calmly and managed to penetrate Eomer's anger and sense of betrayal.

"You met us _before_," Susan said emphatically and moved up next to Shadowfaxe. "My brother and Aragorn sit at Helms Deep and are prepared to fight to the death for _your_ people." Her ice-blue eyes bored into his hazel ones. "All we ask is that you come to the aid of your uncle – your own _people_."

"Defend Rohan from the terror that has been unleashed and marches to destroy them at this very moment." Gandalf said in a grave voice.

Susan glanced at her companion, surprised – but not doubtfull – that he knew exactly what was happening miles away. She turned back to Eomer and met his gaze steadily.

"What say you, son of Éomund?" Gandalf demanded.

The proud Rohan knight stared at the white wizard before he discretely turned his head to Gjessir. "Leave everything but the weapons and armor behind. We march to the aid of our king."

Gjessir smiled and drew a deep breath of relief before he turned to his people. "To the Deep!" he cried over the gathered. They all returned the order with proud jeers.

Susan glanced at Gandalf and smiled at the self-assured smirk on his face. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

Eomer joined them, but it didn't stop Gandalf from answering. "I had my suspicions."

Eomer looked between them with a frown, but received little in the way of an answer, when all that happened was that both Susan and Gandalf laughed. She was the first to turn Nimzülae around and head back towards the river.

They had barely crossed it when a cry went out from a scout.

"Orc-scout! North-west!" the scout announced while he pointed wildly.

Eomer's best archer sided up next to them with a bow in hand. He took aim. Susan was worried he was aiming too low, but held her tongue. He fired and missed. "The orc is too far, my lord."

"If he reaches Saruman before us, all will be lost." Gandalf said and shot a pointed look at Susan.

She smiled and kicked Nimzülae forward. "I'll get him." In her voice there was a fierce fire she had not possessed in decades.

"You cannot possibly hit him!" Eomer called.

She raced up to a small, toppled hill and stopped at the crest. She pulled her bow and notched an arrow. _Trust in this bow, Susan, and it will never fail you_.

"It's too far! Our only hope is to chase it down." Eomer shouted. She didn't turn to see Gandalf hold him back. Tension built like a dam that was about to burst. The army would chase the scout to the end of the world if need be. Eomer was about to shout something else when Gandalf interrupted.

"_Patience_!" His voice boomed over the army and made it clear he expected everyone to comply. "Susan!"

Eomer looked at the wizard in disbelief. _Surely this woman couldn't outshoot his best archer?_

"Do you have your target?" he continued.

Susan hadn't flinched when he barked her name. She pulled the string back and took a deep breath as she did; lining the arrow tip with the horizon as she had been taught. Then she arched her back to a point, approximately three inches over the little orc. She was at the right angle. Her bow would now prove just how skilled it was with her brandishing it. The arrow would hit. She could _feel_ it. "I do," she muttered back.

"Then show Lord Eomer the strength of your arm, my dear." Gandalf answered in a proud voice.

"She'll never hit with a wild shot. She will _miss_ and we will have lost precious moments, we should have used to catch it before it reaches Saruman!" Eomer insisted, wanting nothing more than to hunt down the enemy scout himself.

The orc was over half a mile away. Susan drew a deep breath and released the string. It snapped in the air and sent the arrow shooting in a flat arch before falling with pinpoint accuracy and hitting the orc in the back of its head. Even from where they stood they saw it suddenly slump and fall.

Eomer, as everyone else, fell silent in awe.

Susan lowered her bow and drew a deep breath. She guided Nimzülae down from the little crest. She almost wanted to laugh mockingly at the proud, Rohan knight, but didn't when she felt anger bubbling inside her again. She had nothing to prove to him. How _dared_ he doubt her? He didn't even _know_ her!

His shocked eyes followed her as she passed him and set into an easy canter. She didn't hear Gandalf's softly spoken words to the outcast of Edoras.

"Trust in her as she trusts in herself," he said quietly. Eomer turned to him with his mouth still agape. "She and her siblings are the only ones who will be able to win this war for us." Without another word he set into a brief gallop to catch up to his young queen. He smiled when he reached her side. "You did well."

"I know," Her eyes were fixed on the horizon. All the passion and desire to prove herself had gone and left her feeling tired and angry. "It was what I was taught."

Gandalf smiled and didn't doubt whoever had taught her. He suspected more each day that these children had been left with the remnants of, not only powerful and wise tutors, but that of a magnificent being as well. "You surely have, Queen Susan." He smiled. "You surely have."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Susan does a little ass-kicking of her own in this one. I hope it was as satisfactory to read as it was to write.


	30. Chapter 30: Flooding Orthanc

**Disclaimer:** Every word in here is true. They're also not mine.

**Author's Note:** That part about me being an attention whore is looking more and more true, isn't it?

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><p>Chapter 30 – Flooding Orthanc<p>

"What do you _mean_ 'you have to _goo_'?" Pippin asked in unabashed betrayal. He was staring at Lucy through big, dewy eyes.

The water was still calmly churning as it filled out the last gaps of dry land around Orthanc. It was already seeping into the ground and returning Isengard to the swamp it had once been. "I have to see the people who are injured safely home." She didn't know how far that journey would take her, and felt torn about leaving. She fiddled with the bandages on her fingers. Her fingertips still hurt a little. A dull throb pierced them every once in a while.

"What about your brother?" Merry asked with his soulful eyes directed up at her.

She looked at him and smiled. "I don't think he's there anymore."

"You don't _think_." Pippin pointed out.

True, her feelings were somewhat conflicted. She wasn't sure her brother had managed to escape, but something was pulling at her to leave. Not just the sick and injured people who needed her help. She had always been caring and too empathetic for her own good – according to her siblings at least. But she had also always had an uncanny instinct about such things. There was nothing good left in that tower. If her brother had been there she would have known. She turned and hoisted her newly replenished bag of supplies over her shoulder and frowned when a pang shot through her fingertips. "I have to help them. My path points south." She loved the way formal speech had a way of enhancing emotions. Her sense of duty would hardly have been enough to convince Merry and Pippin. Now she had the added weight of her royal tongue as well.

Both hobbits sighed. They had been hoping she'd stay.

"And I'll return," she promised with a smile.

Both nodded and looked down. She kneeled and frowned in sympathy. She had never met creatures such as these two before. It had only taken them five minutes upon meeting her before they considered her one of their own. Such devotion and loyalty was hard to come by even in Narnia. Only in Squirrels had she seen anything like it. She placed a hand on Merry's shoulder. "Watch after Treebeard and the Ents for me. Make sure they don't try to draw out Saruman."

They looked up with slightly more strength. Both nodded in sync.

She smiled one last time and squeezed Merry's shoulder before she turned. In front of her stood Esodhal and Essir. "We're ready when you are, Lucy."

She hoisted her bag a little higher, mindful of her torn fingers, and sighed. They were in for a long walk. They had made stretchers out of old spokes and worn canvas bags for those who couldn't walk. Those who could, but not without support, had been presented with canes by the Ents. Lucy walked next to a young man who had been utterly broken during his time as a slave. He was hunched over and almost in constant agony.

A woman among them had introduced herself as a healer of sorts and made a relieving tea for him and others in pain. But she doubted that any of them could be healed fully simply with a cup of tea. Even her Cordial would have been useless to erase the horrible things they had all seen and felt. The fact that she didn't have it with her only added to the grim depression she was feeling.

They moved as one group, very slowly through the forest, through a narrow trail in between the trees. It seemed they had moved since Lucy last saw them. They now covered the southern slopes towards the White Mountains. As far as the eye could see. A green carpet hid every landmark they could have followed. As it were, only the black tower was visible through the foliage. As evening fell, Lucy turned to get one last look at the tower. She found to her surprise that it was already out of sight. She shuddered, and kept thinking there was something she had left behind.

Even as night closed in around them, she kept glancing back in the direction they had come. Even as the trees began creaking in phantom winds, she didn't worry about anything except the ever increasing distance to the place she had last seen her brother. She frowned and picked at the bandages around her fingers. Only three nails had been ripped out and the pain had lessened greatly. Torches were lit with lumber from Isengard. They did not dare to chop branches off the trees. Lucy agreed with them on that particular point. She knew the trees were very emotional and capable of movement – had seen as much – and would rather not bring their wrath upon herself.

During the night she was barely awake as she walked. She flinched when something brushed against her shoulder. She glanced up to find Esodhal. "What troubles you?" he whispered.

She sighed into the darkness. "I feel like I've left something behind."

Esodhal nodded. "Your brother?"

She nodded again and saw him smiling at her. She frowned, wondering how that piece of information could bring someone joy. "He escaped." Esodhal said in a quiet, proud voice.

Lucy stopped walking and only started once someone bumped into her from behind. She quickly apologized and hurried next to Esodhal again. "How do you know?"

The middle aged man smiled into the ground at his moving feet. "We saw him escape from Saruman's tower, eight days after your departure."

"You mean he was _in there_?" Her eyes widened.

Esodhal instantly sobered and worriedly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Yes. But he stole a horse, and he _escaped_."

She sighed. If he was well enough to ride, he couldn't have been terribly hurt. But then she was mockingly reminded of all the hundred times he _had_ been terribly hurt and of all he had accomplished then. There was nothing save Aslan himself that could stop her brother once he set his mind to something. He could've very easily been seriously injured before, or during, his escape. The adrenaline alone could have given him enough strength to fight his way out. Her forehead wrinkled.

Esodhal noticed and placed his large bear paw on her shoulder. "He is well, Lucy. You'll see. And he headed south as we are now. Probably towards Helms Deep, just as us." He tried to get her to smile by smiling himself. "It is said the horses or Rohan are wiser than humans. Fiercely loyal and brave in the face of danger. His horse would've guided him to safety."

That notion comforted Lucy a little. She knew things worked differently in different worlds. If Horses talked in Narnia, perhaps here they could outrun an army of Uruk-hai? She fell into another contemplative silence that lasted until the forest around them brightened in the early hours of morning. As the forest brightened she tended to her fingers again. They hurt something fierce when she changed the bandages, but nails could be re-grown.

With the renewed light, a surge of hope blew through the small company. Everyone wordlessly picked up their pace. "We are close," someone in the front called.

Esodhal and Essir had stayed with Lucy through the night, but both now left her side to check their progress for themselves. Just as she made to quicken her pace and keep up with them, she heard a thin ringing in the air. She stopped. People limped around her without her awareness. No one took notice of the young woman who had suddenly stopped, nor the shrill sound on the air. She turned in place and listened to the wind. She looked around for the source.

Her attention fractioned between the forest and a place she couldn't see, could barely remember. A place with roaring fires and loving friends. A place that had been as terrible as it was magnificent. The shrill whistle sounded again, stronger this time. She sucked in a breath. It sounded like a silver whistle.

With quick, uncoordinated movements she pulled out the whistle Gandalf had passed onto her from Galadriel. She put it to her lips and blew, but no sound came. She frowned and tried again with her aching fingertips on different holes. This time a weak and not very flattering hiss sounded. She couldn't cover the holes entirely, and plucked it from her lips when the distant whistle sounded a third time. The dawn had fully arrived. The light within the forest was considerably stronger. Almost golden through the thick tree crowns. She clenched her fist around the whistle and started running back to the group.

She arrived just in time to see Esodhal searching the crowd for her, and smiled. He didn't return it, which instantly made her worried. "What's wrong?" she called. Everyone was speaking in hushed voices.

"Someone approaches." he called back.

She stopped to listen and surely enough, there was a faint sound of branches snapping and trees growling, growing louder every second. "Everyone stop!" she called to the group. "Stay together!" Everyone huddled in, too frightened not to heed her command. As they watched, the forest came alive around them.

Trees began moving and twisting their thick trunks. Further up ahead they heard growls and calls for retreat. Deep, hoarse voices laughed at the cowardice of their enemies that they wouldn't follow into Fangorn. All blood left Lucy's face when she recognized the pitch. _They're Uruk-hai!_

"Bows out!" she called.

Everyone quickly obeyed. They pointed their orc-fashioned arrows into the dimly lit forest and held their breaths. The weakest were huddled together in the center of the group. "Don't fire until you have a clear shot!" Esodhal called.

Lucy reckoned he would have made an excellent general, had he ever wanted to. She moved towards the sound, next to Esodhal and a large man named Beron. She strung an arrow and pointed it into the gloom. The sounds of Uruks, thundering through the hostile forest, grew louder until she suddenly saw one for a moment. She drew a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Lucy-" Esodhal tried to warn, but she didn't listen.

She exhaled and let the arrow fly. It struck an Uruk-hai in the head the second it popped out behind a large root. As if on cue, the trees flinched. Every tree from two hundred feet in front of them suddenly came to life. They started twisting and slamming their huge branches into the ground. Screams and shrieks from the orcs echoed through the forest as more and more of them were attacked by trees. "They were waiting. . ." Lucy whispered. The trees had moved to lie in wait for the Uruk-hai to come.

She watched in awe as the last Uruks were bashed bloody and swallowed by the ground and the unimaginably long tree roots. Something breathed a sigh of relief against her back and suddenly she saw the world in colors again. As the last squelch sounded, she started running. It was as if Aslan himself urged her forward.

"Lucy, stop!"

Esodhal's deep voice didn't reach her. She sped through the trees, barely aware of the blood that now soaked for ground. She smiled when she heard a roar of victory. A _human_ roar. And just as she cleared the trees she was blinded by the sun and a thousand shining bodies of armor. Her heart nearly exploded when one voice rose above the din of revelry and filled her ears.

"_LUCY!_"

It was a voice she knew well. It was the voice of her brother.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Aww... We're moving closer to the big "hug-scene" and the end of the second book. There'll probably be a short vacation for me after that while I try to finish the story. Hang tight.


	31. Chapter 31: The Red Dawn

**Disclaimer:** I beg and beg, but Santa never gives me what I truly desire.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for not updating yesterday. I uploaded the chapter to the waiting bay, but forgot to post. But here it is. Only this and one more to go before book two comes to an end.

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><p>Chapter 31 – The Red Dawn<p>

**On the plains of West Emnet…**

As the night grew weaker and the stars dimmed, a new sense of urgency overcame the army. Susan could barely think beyond her need to go faster; run farther. _Farther in, farther up!_ She spurred Nimzülae on with yet another kick and the intelligent mare eagerly complied. She bobbed her head and, with a great whinny, put on a burst of speed. Even the powerful Rohan horses were hard pressed to keep up. The only one able to fully match her speed was Gandalf, who had the same look of determination. He and Shadowfaxe looked almost as focused as Susan did on Nimzülae.

And though she was exhilarated to reunite with Peter, she felt a great deal of stress. Her body refused to calm down. Even the quick pace shouldn't have caused her such duress. She spotted the incline that shielded the valley of Helms Deep. She slowed her pace when Gandalf did as well. It was still only barely visible in the distant, clearing west, but the anxiousness tripled. Susan suddenly felt something bounce against her chest and nearly leapt out of her skin. She glanced down and saw the tiny whistle Galadriel had given her. She carefully untangled one hand from Nimzülae's mane and grasped the silver object.

Without a second thought she brought it to her lips and blew. A beautiful sound filled the air. Like seagulls screaming. Like roars of victory. Like waves crashing in endless monotony, against white beaches. Though the sound was one of the most beautiful she had ever heard, she couldn't smile through the nervousness that filled her. She glanced over at Gandalf and saw him smiling at her. The rare sight alleviated some of her fears, but far from all. She blew again and this time heard faint trumpets, blaring for war. Without a word it was as if the army sped up. The last incline was hard enough that some of the horses fell behind, but Susan didn't care. She felt certain that she would falter if she fell back now.

It was an indiscernible sense of worry. Nervousness that she was about to engage in war, in a way she never had before. She had never fought on horseback and only once had she fought on the frontlines. Never with a sword. Her bow would be next to useless atop Nimzülae. Gandalf and Eomer stopped next to her on the crest of the hill. It overlooked the mass of bodies and ruins that was once Helms Deep.

"You are without a sword." Eomer observed.

Susan hardly acknowledged him. Her eyes were trained on the army below. Only a handful of Rohan men were still alive. She glanced at him when a glint in the sunlight caught her eye. Eomer pointed the hilt of a sword at her and with a nod, urged her to seize it. She nodded back and accepted it somewhat hesitantly. She didn't know much about sword fighting in general. Even more limited was her knowledge of how to do it on horseback. For the first time since leaving her brother, she wished he or any other of her siblings had been there. They would have known how to handle themselves, without the fear of accidentally cutting their own horse. Any one of them would have done better than she.

As if hearing her thoughts, Nimzülae whickered softly. Susan smiled and petted her soft neck. She drew a deep breath and gained some sense of calm from the steadfast mare.

"King Théoden stands alone," Gandalf said pensively. His eyes were trained, not on the battlefield, but to the west. He hardly sounded out of breath.

"Not alone." Eomer answered. "_Rohirrim_!"

A mighty roar from the army rose behind them.

Susan put the whistle to her mouth and blew again. It was strange how the sound changed with each blow. It sounded deeper and more resounding than before. More like her old horn used to.

As Eomer turned Springir around, he faced Susan. She knew his concerns, for they were hers as well. Would she freeze? Would she stumble into the midst of battle and become utterly useless? She nodded to alleviate some of his fears. He returned the gesture. Apparently he'd had a change of heart when it came to her prowess. Her mare bounced nervously and set off at a dead run behind Eomer and Gandalf. The wizard surged forward on Shadowfaxe like a white wave. The tip of a spear.

As they flew down the steep slope, Susan saw him draw his own sword. An ancient one he had had with him since she first met him. The Uruk-hai turned and saw the approaching army. With battle cries from both sides they thundered towards each other. Just as they were about to reach the bottom, the sun rose above the hill and bathed the battleground in sunlight. The dark creatures resembled little more than pond-scum as they reared back in the brilliant wave of light. It struck them much as the horses. Like thunder and fire.

In a roar of steel, clashing against steel, the two armies collided. Screams from Uruk-hai, men and horses alike echoed through the valley. And in the midst of fear and confusion Queen Susan found her strength.

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><p><strong>On the Keep…<strong>

The noise was the first thing that struck him. Both in England and Narnia Edmund had heard the sounds of war, but not for some years. The war in England was over and the peace Caspian had restored to Narnia seemed unshakable. Only the latest messenger from Narnia had unsettled him. But apparantly Aslan felt it didn't warrant the attention of the kings and queens of old. Surely he would not have sent them here, if that were the case? "What happened?" He looked over the wreckage that had once been a long wall, but was now only rubble and blood.

"They blew up the Deepening Wall," Gimli grumbled in the midst of all the noise. "There, lad! I see Aragorn." he shouted.

"And Susan!" the young man shouted just as wildly. His brother and sister were almost side by side, fighting their way towards each other, swinging their swords at every beast that crossed their path. Peter had angled Axis to guard his sister's back, but left his own left flank vulnerable.

"Hya!" Edmund kicked their borrowed horse and moved to act as a shield between his brother and their unseen attacker. Just as an Uruk-hai was about to slash through his brother, Edmund veered in between and brought his sword up in a wide arc. The Uruk was forced back and off balance by Edmund's height and by the strength of the blow. A victorious roar from Gimli blended in with the noise of battle. Just as he turned to glance at his brother, Peter did the same.

Peter heard the singing sound of steel and turned in fright. His eyes widened when he saw his brother beside him, as had he materialized from thin air, and smiled widely. "You drank the cordial!"

Edmund smiled back and suddenly laughed when the most wonderful sound he had ever heard, reached his ears. "Edmund!" their sister shrieked.

"Susan, look out!" both brothers shouted.

Her silvery steed turned lightning fast and stomped down heavily on an Uruk-hai's head. She glanced at Edmund and smiled before she returned her focus to the fight. The battle itself was brief due to the renewed hope Eomer had brought with him. Gandalf's presence as well seemed to intimidate the Uruks, and the wizard almost had to struggle to find any combatants willing to engage him. Drunk on nearing victory and the sight of his long lost nephew, Théoden couldn't stop smiling.

When the Uruks realized they were outnumbered, someone among them sounded the retreat. A roar of furious victory cascaded through the valley as the king's men greeted their brothers in arms. As the sun climbed higher on its unrelenting path, the Uruks turned and fled. "Pursue!" Théoden called with his sword held high.

Without pause, the army took up the chase. Edmund sided up next to his brother and sister with a wide smile. Adrenalin was pumping through him and brought a sensation he had long gone without. Their horses pounded the ground and chased the Uruks back towards Isengard. What none of them realized until they saw it with their own eyes, was that the forest had a mind of its own. Fangorn had moved. In almost a full day it had traveled halfway to Helms Deep. The chase was short and the cavalry stopped upon sight of the looming forest.

The Uruks continued without pause, eager to escape their followers. Edmund even heard some of them hooting in joy as they escaped into the unnatural darkness the forest provided. Calling them cowards and manlings, almost daring them to follow. Some of the knights almost did, but a calm warning from Gandalf stayed them.

"The forest came this far," he said with a smile when Edmund glanced questioningly at him. Shrieks of pain roared from the bowels of Fangorn and let no one question what was happening. The trees were fighting back.

Having only just met the wizard – and at that point Edmund was barely aware that Gandalf _was_ a wizard – he was feeling ever more confused in his presence. There was so much more to the man than he let on. Such people confused Edmund, who prided himself on being able to see through almost everyone. Not to mention the striking likeness Gandalf bore to another man Edmund had taken too long to figure out. _Look forward, Edmund_, a deep voice advised him.

He swallowed down his nervousness and took the advice literally. The second he did, he saw the most wonderful thing in his life. The cries and screams silenced and a deep calm befell the forest. It was as if a sigh, which had started deep within it, blew outwards. Towards the Rohan army and the Pevensies. All three siblings were on the very first line, along with the Fellowship and Théoden. And all saw the same wondrous sight.

As a sweet breeze cleared the forest, a small figure came with it. A girl running from the boarder. She stopped the second the sun hit her face with eyes closed and smiled. Edmund's face fell before it suddenly lifted into a brilliant smile. "_LUCY._"

His brother and sister called as well, and as one, they stormed forward. Lucy set off running again, but barely made it ten feet from the forest before her older siblings descended upon her. Gimli was unceremoniously brought along since he was perched atop Edmund's horse. The rest of the Fellowship followed calmly, along with Théoden and Eomer.

Edmund rolled off his horse and turned. . .just in time to find his arms full of little sister. "Oh, Edmund!" she cried happily. She _was_ crying. He could feel his leather hauberk dampen already, but didn't mind. He closed his arms around her and buried his face in her auburn hair. She was covered in mud from head to toe, and sported bandages around her fingers. All of it paled in comparison to the innate wildness she always possessed, and tears sprang to his eyes.

"Lucy. . ." he whispered. His arms tightened reflexively around her and he soon found himself engulfed in more, warm bodies. His older siblings had joined the two of them in the hug and were crying and laughing as well.

Lucy looked up at her three wise, wonderful, beautiful, intelligent and all around _perfect_ older siblings. There had only been few times she had felt _so_ calm and safe as when she was in the arms of one of them. All three were gifts beyond reckoning, and she didn't know what she had done to deserve them. She smiled straight into Edmund's face and saw him smile back. His eyes were swimming, as were her own, but they were happy tears. Relieved tears. She felt her laugh bubble out among them.

They all laughed with her. Behind the four siblings the ones who were close enough to hear and see, did as well. How could they not in the face of such bliss? Gentle smiles softened their faces.

"I was afraid I'd left you!" Lucy cried and sobbed when her brother's trusting smile became too much to bear. How could Edmund look at her so after she _left_ him?

He swallowed thickly and put his hand on the side of her face. "You've never left me." The finality of the way he said it made her sob uncontrollably.

An order was called for retreat. The army did so, all except for the Fellowship, the king, his personal guard and Eomer.

"We were so scared," Susan cried.

Peter was sobbing along with Lucy. As the two of them always had, they still did. They shared the intensity of their emotions more strongly than any two of the siblings. They were so alike in intensity and beauty. They had sparkled along with the sun in Narnia, while Edmund and Susan had glowed calmly like the moon. And like Lucy and Peter shared a connection beyond understanding, so did Susan with Edmund. The two siblings looked at each other through their tears. "I'm sorry." he sobbed brokenly.

"Stop apologizing!" Peter cried and made the other three laugh. "You're always apologizing for things you haven't done."

Edmund let his smile lessen to a knowing smirk. "I have a lot to make up for." That made Peter smile as well and Edmund relax.

Realizing they were being watched, Peter wiped his face and pulled Susan along with an arm around her shoulders. "Told you I'd find them,"

She huffed tiredly into his shoulder and made his smile widen. He was loathe to let go of either of his siblings, but knew there were things that Lucy and Edmund needed to discuss alone. He helped his sister mount, although Nimzülae bowed down on one foreleg graciously so he didn't have to. He glanced over and saw Aragorn smiling at him, astride his own horse.

"It seems all is well."

Peter nodded and looked at his two youngest siblings holding each other tightly. "It is."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Next one will be up in a matter of minutes.


	32. Chapter 32: A Deep Silence

**Disclaimer:** No deal can be struck.

**AN:** Here is the end of the second book. Looking forward to the third.

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><p>Chapter 32 – A Deep Silence<p>

The company of eleven traveled into Fangorn after securing the safe return of Lucy's companions to Helms Deep. It was a sad farewell with Esodhal and Essir. Edmund felt his heart stop when he heard what happened to Larrah after his departure. He silently convinced himself that he had made a mistake by leaving, but found it hard to remain sullen in his little sister's uplifting company. She had seemed saddened by the retelling of Larrah's fate as well, and with one look Edmund knew there was something she wasn't telling them. He vowed to get it out of her sometime later.

But at the moment the company seemed uplifted. Lighthearted even. Lucy was telling how she met Gandalf, Merry, Pippin and Treebeard.

"You knew all along that the Ents would take over Isengard, didn't you?" Susan asked Gandalf in front of her.

The wizard nodded. "I had an inkling, but even _I_ lack the foresight to make such an assumption."

"He told us as much before we left Fangorn." Peter mumbled to his little brother.

Edmund was sitting behind Lucy on the horse he had taken from Helms Deep. Gimli was back behind Legolas, since the elf weighed less than any of them, and since Gimli almost weighed as much as a grown human. Susan was striding calmly beside the elf and dwarf, talking and laughing with them. It seemed she and the odd couple had taken a liking to each other. Every time the dwarf looked at her it was with an unabashed glow of affection. The elf was little different in his admiration of her, only more gracious about it.

Peter had finally realized where his dislike for the elf lay after Edmund made an offhanded comment about more suitors to duel. During their reign the kings had made it a habit of challenging both their sisters' suitors to matches if ever they ever got a bit too cheeky for their liking. Never to the death – except that one Calormene fellow who just wouldn't take a hint – and always with the choice to leave in dishonor or try to win it back. No one ever could, of course.

It helped that both brothers were renowned for their skills with a blade by the respective ages of fourteen and eleven, and that those skills only improved with age. Their swords masters had seen to that. Peter couldn't hide his joy over having his old sword back. Or his brother. The two boys were in some ways closer than either was to his sisters, his sisters to him, or their sisters to each other. Peter and Edmund were brothers in every sense of the word. Brothers in mind, spirit and blood, as their old rhetoric teacher had once said. They had gone from being almost estranged to hopelessly codependent.

They knew both their sisters were aware of it, but couldn't understand how the girls could stand _not_ being the same way with each other. Had they asked Susan she only would've smiled and walked away. Lucy tried explaining it to them once, but lost them at "_Well you see, boys and girls are different_", and never bothered again.

Many topics were loosely discussed that afternoon. Lucy explained to Gandalf that the dam of Isen had been broken and Isengard flooded. He nodded and told her it was once a great river delta until Saruman ordered it be dammed up. It had been a suggestion of Gandalf's that sent Saruman back to Orthanc. Back then both wizards thought it a wonderful idea since the Steward of that time didn't have the manpower to protect it. They had wanted to build a place of refuge. A place where wise men could come to study and become even wiser. "It's a shame that dream was never fulfilled." Gandalf sighed wistfully.

"Maybe in another lifetime, old friend." Aragorn said with a smile.

"Ah, yes." the wizard answered. He sent Aragorn a brief glance as if he knew exactly what would happen to the lone tower.

As they slowly made their way back to Orthanc, all fell into a deep silence. Edmund's mind wandered to his impending revisit with Saruman. His body didn't hurt, but his mind tricked him. Little stabs and flaring pains shot through his spine occasionally. Not enough to make him flinch but just enough to make his breath hitch a little. If Lucy noticed, she kindly didn't mention it. After his third imaginary jolt, she did however lean back slightly. He accepted the silent offer of support and wrapped his arms around her. He wasn't really hurting. Mostly just tired.

Peter watched his brother like a hawk. Though he never outright looked at him or mentioned the little twitches Edmund kept having, his entire body was tensed. His brother hadn't been outright nervous before and Peter didn't like that it seemed to be increasing the closer they came to Saruman. On top of his worry for Edmund he was having doubts whether or not they should follow the Fellowship all the way back to the tower. The last thing he wanted was for any more of his siblings to be exposed to the particular brand of madness Saruman carried.

Susan, though laughing gaily with Gimli, was still reeling from her first ever battle. Her shakings had lessened, but there was still a lingering sense of worry. The sword felt heavy by her side and she had every intention of giving it back to Eomer the first chance she got. She felt uneasy and flinched at every little noise. Nimzülae seemed jumpy as well, which oddly enough gave Susan the strength to keep calm.

She had always shied away from her own feelings by caring for others. Her newest horse was no different from any other creature she had offered support over the years. Gimli said something funny and she felt an uneasy laugh bubble out of her. She glanced around with a deceptive calm only perfected after years of practice, and immediately spotted the way Edmund was hunched over and how Lucy was leaning against him. How Peter was sitting stiff as a board in obvious concern for his brother and how every one of their friends seemed tired beyond belief. Her gaze drifted back to Edmund. She wondered if he was quite as healed as he seemed. The cordial didn't heal the mind, she knew. She wondered just how much damage had been inflicted by Saruman.

Lucy was consumed with guilt. She never should have left her brother in the hands of that mad man. And she hated that she could do little else but _be there_ for Edmund now. He kept twitching. Every time his breath hitched she felt it. She had stopped conversing with Gandalf and settled for only watching over Edmund. He was so fragile. When together, their brothers were stronger than twenty men, but separate they were both fragile creatures. The Pevensie daughters had long ago learned just _how_ fragile and knew perfectly well how to care for them. These days they both did it without either brother even noticing. Lucy glowed a little in the light of that small accomplishment. None of them knew the boy kings as well as their sisters. No one knew how to protect them the same way. She had that, at least.

Her horse, Aril, whinnied and made her smile. She knew the most likely person for Edmund to open up to would be his brother. But if nothing else, Lucy could still stand as a shield in front of anything that tried to hurt him.

Upon arrival to Orthanc she could feel Edmund's tremors. His arms were clenched around her waist like a vice and her own hands grasped his till she nearly cramped. Aril was getting nervous as well. Unconsciously all members of the Fellowship had taken to forming a circle around the two. A living, breathing shield. They crossed paths with Merry and Pippin upon entering Isengard through a break in the wall.

"Friends!" Pippin cheered and raised a goblet. "Welcome!" He hopped to his feet and swayed a little.

_Are they drunk?_

"-to Isengard!" He swung his beer-mug lavishly and almost fell over. He would have, had it not been for Merry. The two hobbits giggled like school girls and, unaware of Edmund's rising sense of doom, chased away some of the nervousness in the others.

"Trust hobbits to find ale at the bottom of a well." Gandalf reprimanded, though his smile suggested otherwise.

When Edmund relaxed a little, Lucy felt herself relax as well. Aril had calmly stopped and was now at the back of the group. "Would you like to stay here?" she whispered. She saw Peter turn and Susan hold back Nimzülae at the front.

Edmund shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You don't look it." Peter quietly said. He looked almost ashamed, which made Lucy more than a little confused.

"I'll be fine, Peter." Edmund's voice had gone from its usually soft, deep rumble – to a quiet whisper.

Lucy was glad he had stopped shaking, but couldn't help wonder if it was a conscious effort on his part. A way to put _her _at ease. She frowned when Edmund tenderly kicked Aril into a stride. They followed the others. Susan remained next to Legolas and Gimli, though she kept shooting concerned looks over her shoulder. Peter sat like a stone statue next to his brother. Axis' muscles were bouncing under his red pelt, which told Lucy that the horse was no doubt picking up on her brother's tension. She sighed and steered Aril closer. King Théoden, Gamling and Eomer were standing behind Shadowfaxe, Nimzülae, Brego and Ithilloth. The two hobbits were sitting behind Gandalf and Aragorn.

Treebeard splashed up next to the group and turned his hazel eyes skyward. "It is good you came . . . Gaaaandalf. Sticks and stones I can easily move . . . but there issssss . . . hhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn . . . a wizard heeeere that needs watching."

Gandalf didn't acknowledge that he heard the Ent, but simply directed his gaze up as well.

Susan held her breath when a white figure emerged. At the very peak of the tower, he stopped and looked down. The group silenced as one. Peter shifted closer to Aril and Edmund tensed like a spring. Not even Lucy's quiet assurances were enough to calm him, so she opted to turn her most lethal glare towards the wizard.

"Théoden, gracious King. There once existed peace between our two countries," All fell silent, not from terror, but astonishment. "Can it not exist again?" Saruman asked.

Susan saw King Théoden tense before he spoke. In an instant she knew he would decline. She saw so clearly how it would end that she almost cried in relief. The fleeting look of sorrow on the king's face spoke of how desperately he wanted peace. It spoke of how far he was willing to go to achieve it. How dearly he missed his son. And in that moment she had no doubt he would have ventured into the tower alone and dragged the wizard out with him, if he could.

She glanced back at Peter and caught his eye. She nodded to him and tried to exude poise and calm like she had so easily done during her reign. He saw and nodded back.

Nothing else was needed.

As the wizard cowardly pleaded for his own life, the countenance of the gathered grew dark. Realizing the cause was lost, the wizard grew angry. He threatened Gandalf and shot a burst of fire to engulf him. Pippin and Susan both screamed. Susan ripped Nimzülae back in fright and barely had time to really register what happened before the fire was put out. Pippin and Gandalf were sitting atop Shadowfaxe, unhurt. Catching only a fleeting glance of his face, Susan sucked in a breath when she saw Gandalf turn murderous eyes to the corrupt wizard.

"SARUMAN!" His voice quaked like falling mountains. She had no doubt his yell could be heard halfway to Edoras. "Your staff is _broken_." With a twitch of his wrist he shattered his counterpart's staff. It exploded into oblivion and left its wizard stunned.

Théoden had pleaded with Grima to rejoin them and the plea had seemingly fallen on deaf ears. Though, as the wizard's staff broke, a look slid over Grima's face. A look of rage. They watched in surprise, but without pity, as Grima defied the wizard and flung him from the tower, only to be stabbed in the process. Saruman's howl shattered the silence that had fallen in the wake of the battle. He tumbled over the edge of the tower and soared through the air.

Susan and Lucy yelped when he hit the ground. The murky waters made a rather unspectacular splash and all was silent again. No birds, no wind. Only the ragged breaths of fourteen companions and their horses.

Pippin rolled down from Shadowfaxe, but Susan wasn't paying any attention at all. She turned Nimzülae around and steered her back to Edmund. The native Middle-Earthmen were all focused on Pippin's findings in the dark water, but she could only focus on how pale her brother looked.

"Edmund?"

He looked at her as if she had frightened him. His bottom lip was trembling.

Her expression softened and she steered Nimzülae closer. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" She placed a hand on his cheek and noticed he was like ice. Around them, bodies were floating on the lazy currents. Ents were gathering to see what the fuss was about and Pippin had apparently again done something he wasn't supposed to.

"_Give that to me_." Gandalf barked, but Susan barely noticed it.

She was staring at Edmund, while Peter and Lucy were staring at her. She seemed so different, Lucy noticed. So calm.

"C'mon, darling." Susan gently nudged Lucy's reins and turned away from the garish place with a hand on Edmund's arm. Peter maneuvered himself behind his siblings to act as a shield. Together they guided their horses out of the waterlogged Isengard and onto dry soil.

There, overlooking the tower and flooding delta, they stopped and turned. Susan sided up next to Peter, who had Lucy and Edmund on his other side.

Without a word they looked at the carnage below and wondered how close they had come to death. How many times they had stood on the brink and walked away. Lucy realized just then how lucky they all were and smiled. "It's over."

All three siblings looked at her, but didn't smile. They knew better than to doubt their sister's faith, but knew it was just barely beginning.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I recieved some praise about Lucy, for making her stronger than usual. For making her more realistic as well. The reason she suddenly transforms back to the blushing little sister is very well reasoned on my part. And so, because I like sharing ;) I've decided to post my notes on the four Pevensies. These are just ramblings in fleeting moments of clarity (read: insanity). They helped me predict their reactions to most things. Read, don't read. It's a free-for-all. But be ware that these notes might ruin your impressions of them slightly. If you're a writer I'd say, read. If you're a reader without much need to understand the reasons behind their actions (in my oppinion anyway), the just scroll forward.

_**Personal Notes: **Each of the siblings carry traits and aspects of their siblings' personalities. Because they mirror themselves in each other, it's only natural. Some things rub off and become part of the "shared" personality (interesting since it would definitely appear that they share several traits, which only appear when one or more of their siblings are missing). They learn from each other. Most likely, mainly from Peter since his role as the oldest offers a natural authority. But because they live together so closely there's a need to establish rules. Those rules could very well come in the shape of a system - or roles. Each child has their role to play in the group, though that role might be less than what they are capable of. Each has their role to fill, but is not unable to take the role of another. Had Lucy not been born, Edmund would no doubt have taken on some of her more characteristic traits. Or were Susan the oldest she would probably have become more self-confident and commanding._

_It is very possible the siblings were sent to Narnia to discover something for themselves. Peter seems to have discovered his role as protector - the Alfa in the group. The one who guides and watches over the weaker ones. He found the confidence to lead a country and his siblings in the process. Susan still seems to be looking for her purpose. In the books she is left out of the final journey to the Real Narnia. Probably because of her unfulfilled search. Edmund was perhaps the one in most dire need to a role. As a typical middlechild he seems to have found eactly what suited him: The role as shadow. The guy who stands behind his siblings and protects them. Often sacrificing the__ closeness that the others share. Lucy and Peter especially. Lucy seems to have come to Narnia to find something to believe in. Not having a father makes her an optimal candidate for adopting a substitute father-figure. Aslan encourages this by calling her (all of them) "child". Seems to suggest he is the father Lucy has been missing. An added aspect of substituting her father with Aslan is that the Lion is indeed supernatural. He takes the role of, not only father, but guide, god and king. It seems Lucy found an ability to trust unconditionally in others because of the trust she has for Aslan._

_Peter: He has learn to accept the natural tendency to let Susan control him. At first he seems very defensive everytime she tries, which suggests he might need to learn how to listen. His pride often gets in the way of his rationality. It seems Susan might be the person who knows him best (without letting him know **her**) because most of her criticsm is greeted with unfriendliness. Peter doesn't seem to be very aware of his limitations, which makes him formidable against his enemies. It seems that is one of the things he never learns in life. It is only later he apparantly becomes aware that his siblings might know him better than he knows himself and lets them take control occasionally. When reminded of his flaws and shortcomings then, he often accepts them as the truth._

_Susan: She is very shy. Far more than we are led to believe. It's the only explanation as to why she's not more controlling of Peter. As his junior by only a year, she should be far more dominating in their relationship than she appears. She's very curious. Much like Lucy, that curiosity has more value placed upon it than it does with any of the brothers. Her curiosity is evident in The Boy and his Horse. She's the only one out of the three siblings who appears to have any kind of sexual curiosity. Also possibly the reason why she's excluded from the last book. Because she is still looking for something. And Aslan even says that she has done nothing wrong when Peter says she "left them"._

_Edmund: He is not one man. He is part of the square that makes up the two kings and the two queens. Without them it seems he would have little purpose. He would easily fall if any of his siblings died/left. He is also, therefore the most interesting to examine and write about. He comes off as empathetic in my mind's eye. He looks like the shadow to the other three. Their guardian and through that task, the guardian of the kingdom - The Just. but it seems impossible that he would have become the hero of the story without his siblings. As a boy, he is only a guardian of his siblings. But as a king that task becomes "guardian of all"._

_Lucy: She is valiant in the sense that she seems to lack the social filters her siblings have. It's not necessarily because she's braver than her siblings or that she doesn't feel fear. At least not in the same way. She seems slightly disjointed from the world around her, but at the same time very emotionally connected with other people. The oddness is that her empathy seems to set her apart from the rest of the world, in the sense that she is able to observe objectively, but still very insightfully. The disjointed vibe she gives off is probably why Aslan takes such a liking to her. Because while she is able to connect effortlessly with others, she remains observant. In connection with the social filter-thing, it is evident in the little, odd things she says. She retains the honesty of a child all through life. The way a child isn't ashamed to ask something or tell something if it's true. All in all, it seems to be her lack of embarrassment that shapes her personality and earns her the title of Valiant._

There is it. I hope it doesn't come off as complete arrogance and gibberish. But in any case, take it as you'd like. I only post it because I know how stuff like this, posted in notes or on someone's profile page has helped me create a much more complete picture of the characters.

Thank you all for reading!


	33. Chapter 33: The Apple Trees

**Disclaimer:** I'll never own, but I'll never stop striving for perfection either.

**Author's Note:** Welcome to the beginning of the last march. One night, four months ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with an idea in my head. I literally dreamed of a scene from this story before it was written. _This_ was that scene. And it just had to be written. _This_ was the point where I got the idea for this story. It is also my favorite chapter along with The Tale of the Horse. I hope you like this one as much as I do.

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><p><strong>Third Book: Return of the King…<strong>

"_I always like going South; somehow, it feels like going downhill."_

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><p>Chapter 33 – The Apple Trees<p>

Not long after the fall of Saruman, the group set their sights for Edoras. It was few days travel, but mattered little in the grand scheme of things. The woods had a tendency to make one forget time and trouble.

The Fellowship rode calmly through the newly appeased Fangorn Forest. The orange glow of the afternoon sun filtered easily through the crowns. As Legolas had pointed out, the forest did indeed seem calm and bright. Lighter. With a remarkable shift in disposition Lucy had spurred she and Edmund's horse up to the front of the company. Aragorn and Théoden rounded up the rear along with Eomer, who had received responsibility of Pippin. Susan was having an animated conversation with Gamling on the importance of equine care, along with the recipe for a miraculous leather grease, divulged to her by an old Narnian nurse during their reign.

The forest hummed in silent tranquility and even made Gandalf smile. He was seemingly staring into the never-ending greenness with a silly expression. Lucy giggled deliriously at something Edmund said and briefly peaked the curiosity of rest of the group.

Peter had been extremely worried about his brother after they reunited with him in Helms Deep. Though Lucy's cordial had healed all signs of torture on his body, Peter wondered if Edmund's mind was healed as well. From the way he was laughing and teasing their sister, it would appear so. But even so, Peter learned long ago just how good a liar his little brother was. Especially when it concerned his own feelings. He made a vow in cadence with the smooth, rolling gait of Axis, that he would watch his brother. Make sure he was truly as healed as he seemed.

"What do you _mean_, I was too slow?" Lucy asked incredulously. Her bruised fingers had been rewrapped by Susan under the worrying scrutiny of both their brothers. It appeared as though the four children had unanimously decided – without verbally communicating it – to forget about watching Saruman fall from his tower. Focus on the prospect of leaving instead of dwelling on the lingering darkness. Edmund had wholeheartedly thrown himself into the merciless mission, though Peter remained skeptic. Despite how wonderful it was to hear his siblings laugh again. Lucy was grinning and betraying her offense to Edmund's comment.

"All I'm saying is if that orc had moved a second sooner you'd have a sword stuck in your head," He was of course referring to their very first meeting with orcs. "Not that it would make much of a difference, really." He shrugged and smirked. Lucy elbowed him in the ribs and giggled.

"You're such a prat!" She leaned back to slap him upside the head. "Just be glad I let you sit with me."

"You mounted before I could even point out which horse was mine!" Edmund shot back with real offense. Never in his life – not the one led in Narnia, nor the one in England – had he liked taking the backseat to his sisters. They were just as, if not more, competent than he and Peter put together. But it just didn't sit right. He was her older brother and supposed to protect _her_. That meant steering the horse. _Why did she not get that?_

"Besides I'm the better horseman." she finished loftily.

"I miss Phillip," The halfhearted comment struck something deep in him. Something he thought he was over. He really _did_ miss Phillip. More than he had admitted the first time they left Narnia. He knew Lucy picked up on his slip of tongue the second he felt her back slouch. He rubbed her arm absentmindedly to let her know it wasn't what they needed to worry about now. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Lucy straightened her back again and cried out.

"Look!"

The entirety of the Fellowship – not including the hobbits Frodo Baggins and his trusted companion Samwise, who were on their way to Mordor – stopped in surprise.

"What _is_ that?" Aragorn muttered from his place in the rear. Lucy moved Aril to allow the others a look.

"Apple trees," Susan whispered into the mild air, as if trying to pin down an elusive memory.

"This doesn't resemble the way we came," Aragorn pointed out to Gandalf, who in turn made a low, distracted noise.

Gandalf's smile had melted off his face and was now replaced with a careful frown. "I predicted some of the trees might have moved, but this is unexpected."

"Honestly I'm inclined to believe just about anything these days," Eomer muttered. He wasn't as disturbed by the movement of Fangorn as the rest. It appeared to him that the four Pevensies weren't either, and if children could remain courageous in the face of uncertainty he certainly could too. What Eomer didn't know was that dancing trees were not as uncommon to them as for their travel companions.

"I didn't know of any apple groves within Fangorn." Legolas spoke smoothly into the still air.

"I told you it was a bad idea to go through these woods," Gimli growled. "_Again_."

"Do not despair, Master Dwarf. I believe the trees have had their fill." Gandalf smirked.

"I _am_ kind of hungry," Susan said, referring to the apples from her place between Gamling and Peter. Only then did the remaining company realize two things. All were positively famished after not having eaten all day and they were indeed staring at luscious apple trees.

"Isn't it too late in the season for apples?" Merry asked, but couldn't keep his mouth from watering any more than the others could.

"Who cares," Pippin muttered next to him on Springir.

"It would appear not." Legolas answered with a smirk at the young hobbits.

Without wallowing in caution, _such a silly thing really_, Edmund swung off Aril and approached the nearest apple tree. It looked strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It bothered him to no end and was part of the reason for his carelessness. He had never been good with not knowing.

"Ed!" Peter swung off Axis and went to stand next to his brother and the apple tree. Their shoulders barely touched, but the feeling brought a sense of ease to his pounding heart. When his brother was involved Peter had always been worried. He didn't think he could fret more for his brother than he had in Narnia, but he was quickly and painfully realizing his mistake.

"They don't _look_ unfriendly." Edmund suggested to his older brother in a low voice.

Peter studied his brown eyes deeply. In the green light they looked almost black.

Without waiting for word from his high king, Edmund moved over to the nearest tree and put a hand on the bark. A deep sigh escaped him the second he touched it. It was almost as if the tree felt it and sighed back.

"What is it, lad?" Gimli demanded from his perch behind Legolas. Edmund was almost positive he already had a hand on his axe.

Peter glanced back at their company and shared a look with Aragorn, warning him to stay alert while he followed his brother. Because he _would_ follow Edmund, should the boy decide to do anything stupid.

"We should climb it and check for apples." Ed sighed breezily. When he looked at his brother again, his eyes were half-lidded and a pleasant heaviness had spread through his limbs.

Peter stared at the tree in a trance. It was almost a perfect black. Its bark was smooth, almost like glass. He let his gaze travel higher to the crown. The leaves there were almost silver in the waning light. Near a dozen trees stood in two, neat rows, as far as the eye could see, in the middle of Fangorn. Almost as if someone had placed them there for the companions to find.

"We should, shouldn't we?" he whispered towards the beautiful crown.

Edmund smiled and reached down to remove his boots.

"Edmund, wait!" Lucy cried and hopped down from Aril to join them. She slipped off her long boots and joined her brother in climbing the tree.

"Peter, take the other one," Edmund called and motioned to the twin tree.

Peter smirked and ripped off his boots. From her horse, Susan giggled at her siblings' antics.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Gimli leaned in and asked Gandalf.

The old wizard smiled and settled deeper in his seat. "Quite, Gimli."

"Keep an eye out," Aragorn warned.

Peter disappeared into the lush crown of the tree and almost laughed in joy. The smell among the leaves was sweeter than any he had ever smelled before. He heard Edmund and Lucy rustling the leaves in the twin tree and smiled wider when he spotted an apple. "Found one!" He called out in victory.

"Me too!" he heard Lucy shout.

Edmund muttered something too low for him to hear, but Lucy's giggle almost made both trees shiver in delight. These certainly weren't ordinary trees, but the animosity that had soaked the forest last time, was gone. He slowly began his descent with the apple in hand. It looked almost purple in the strange light. He thumped onto the soft ground with a silly smile and offered the apple to Susan. She smirked and shook her head.

"Nay, my king. The honor of first bite belongs to you," Her radiant smiles always made him soar and he happily took the first bite.

Just then Lucy shrieked and all twelve travelers watched Edmund carelessly drop from a branch, do a lazy spin in the air, and land with both feet on the ground. His silly smile offset the scared shriek from Susan as she had seen her younger brother fall. When he smirked at her, she rolled her eyes and accepted the apple from Peter. She bit into it as he had, and a strange sense of delight washed over her. She felt invigorated again. Like during her reign in Narnia, whenever she had set out on a new adventure. Or the unparalelled joy of returning from one. Not that she had been on many adventures, having a castle to run. But even the thought of long forgotten routines was enough to make her smile. Her heart pounded merrily and her spirits instantly lifted.

"Here, Gandalf. Try it." Lucy offered the gnarled, old man, after she soundlessly descended the tree.

"Perhaps a bite would make our sorrows seem less severe?" He quirked a brow at the young girl and her brother, who was standing behind her with a smirk. He had taken a personal liking to Lucy in the short amount of time they had spent together. The girl had the blood of queens in her veins and every action spoke of it, though she didn't see it as such. "Thank you, my girl." He bit into the dark apple and almost shivered in pleasure. The taste was by far the least delightful thing about the strange, little fruit. It seemed to vibrate with joy even as it was being eaten. Its vibrations continued on within him till he simply _had_ to giggle. The uncharacteristic sound shocked the others, except for the Pevensies.

The two eldest children looked perfect pictures of serenity while the two youngest had yet to taste the strange fruit. Gandalf handed the apple back to Lucy, who passed it to Edmund, and closed his eyes. The dark-haired boy bit into the fruit and closed his eyes much like the old wizard. To him it tasted like nothing he had ever had before. Like mountain air and spring leaves. Not sweet and sickly, but fresh, wild and untamable.

He handed the apple back to Lucy with a wistful sigh. "Finish it,"

She took the apple and bit in gladly. To her it was like the essence of a splendid meal. It reminded her of the glorious Narnian balls. Of magnificent fires and creatures caught in the throes of wild music. She laughed openly and without care. She heard her siblings and Gandalf join and it only made her joy sharper. Even more engulfing and all-consuming.

Peter caught sight of the apple trees again and moved towards them in a trance. He was still giggling from his sister's antics. Susan was covering her mouth with a hand to hide her smile. She had always done that. He wished she wouldn't. A smile as wonderful as hers should never be hidden as she did. He stopped under the mighty crown and smiled. A mysterious breeze was moving the glorious coronet of leaves, though no wind stirred the grass. He closed his eyes and swayed with it. Without a second thought he allowed himself to thump onto the ground. His smile widened as he stared into the green stillness.

"Oi, I want one!" Pippin piped up from behind Eomer.

Lucy quieted her laughter down to a giggle and accepted the first, half-eaten apple from Susan after having finished hers. "Here." The hobbit bit into it gladly and almost shrieked in joy. It was like everything wonderful he had ever eaten. Like the ale from Bree or a fresh batch of Longbottom Weed. So much joy rolled into one bite that he simply _had_ to smile.

"Here," He sighed when he let go of it, but felt Merry needed to experience its joy. And he was feeling quite full from his one bite as it were.

Merry looked at him warily before taking his first bite. It was so sweet. So delicious. He couldn't stop and before he knew it, the apple was all gone. He swallowed the last of the succulent fruit and licked his lips. He wanted more, but Lucy had eaten the other one. It didn't occur to him that the others didn't get a taste.

"Aragorn?" Lucy smiled. "Would you like me to find you another?"

But Aragorn shook his head and pulled anxiously on Brego's reins.

"Legolas?" she offered, but he too shook his head with a gracious smile. He didn't seem alarmed, but still refused to take part in whatever gripped the Pevensies, the hobbits and Gandalf. The forest was older than any of them realized and he would rather keep a clear mind. Behind him, Gimli growled at being overlooked, but didn't speak. Perhaps the dwarf sensed that something was not quite right as well?

"Théoden?" She offered, but he shook his head no. Beside him Eomer and Gamling shared a glance, but neither spoke up.

Suddenly Peter giggled loud and carefree when Edmund attempted conversation with the tree. The youngest boy crouched down, barefoot, and caressed the stem whilst whispering. It was as if the whole forest was breathing in tandem with him. Like every trunk in Fangorn was mirrored on the hairs of his arms. "May I climb you?" he whispered and smiled when the tree shivered and the wind whispered _yesssss_. He immediately began, with his brother laughing deliriously in the grass. Susan was so calm she almost looked asleep with a lazy smile on her face. Lucy joined her oldest brother and stared up at Edmund as he navigated through the maze of branches in his attempt to reach the sky.

It was as if she was the earth and the earth was her. She had never felt so whole and so a part of something and she realized: "It's Aslan," Her whisper was heard by all, but only four truly understood her meaning. After all, had they not entered Narnia the first time around through an Apple-wood wardrobe? The four children became, if possible, even more overjoyed. And Edmund simultaneously realized why the apple trees looked so familiar. He had seen pictures of them in Narnian history books. Heard stories from dear Professor Kirke. These were like the apple trees which stood in the Garden and from whence young Digory had plucked a single apple to give to his mother.

They were the daughters of that first Tree of Protection, Edmund realized in great awe. He stilled his movements and ran his hands once more over the smooth wood. "Thank you, Aslan," he whispered too low for any of the others to hear.

Gandalf allowed the feeling of serenity to wash through him. He felt two-hundred years young again. It truly did seem as if something larger than themselves had descended upon them. He had never heard of Aslan before the Pevensies, but was beginning to understand the nature of this magnificent Lion, as they called him. He seemed, to the old wizard, to be a creature not unlike Eru was in his world. Perhaps even one and the same? He had considered this on previous occasions, but never truly realized it as he just did. The ramifications of his discovery were indeed shocking. Where Eru was a fabled god, Aslan appeared to be very real to these children. _To have seen their God and to know he loves them.._.

Knowledge the likes of which these youngsters possessed could move mountains. They could have made themselves gods in Narnia, but had chosen not to. He suspected it was a quality found, not solely in the Great Lion, but in the children as well, that had stayed them from doing just so. His love for them and Eru, _or Aslan as he's apparently also known_, grew a thousand fold. Their purpose in Middle-Earth was perhaps far greater than any member of the Fellowship had previously considered. Far greater than simply fighting in a war.

Eventually Edmund climbed down from the glorious apple tree and helped his brother and sister up. He helped Lucy onto Aril without a word about wanting control of the reins. It seemed so irrelevant now. Jokes and sarcasm felt so insignificant compared to the serenity he had been saturated by.

But it was not only the hobbits, the Pevensies or Gandalf who felt a change. "It does indeed seem as if the purpose of those apple trees was to relieve our troubles," Legolas postulated as he looked at Susan's serene smile.

"I know," Gimli shot a look in the general direction of Merry and Pippin. "The hobbits are uncharacteristically quiet."

In front Gandalf laughed.

Aragorn and Legolas shared a brief glance, but spoke nothing of it further. Théoden and Eomer shared impish smiles as well, but kept their councils. In fact a deep silence settled over all members of the group as they reached the lowlands and approached Rohan. The forest thinned noticeably and eventually turned to lush grasslands. Shadowfaxe neighed almost as if laughing along with Gandalf when he giggled again. Gimli growled suspiciously.

Upon sighting the familiar landscapes of Rohan none of the members could contain little smiles over their return to familiarity. But something left them as they exited the forest. A deep calm that retreated like snow from under the spring sun. Little by little, as they made their way back to Edoras, their smiles faded. The calm was still there, but the profound sense of belonging and joy had been removed from them.

Lucy twisted in her saddle and looked back at the forest with sad eyes. Edmund followed her line of sight and couldn't ignore that he felt a little disheartened as well. So he did the only thing he could think of and kissed her cheek. It made her smile, if only for a little while.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And there it was. A nice beginning to the third book, wouldn't you say? Oh and how many of you could imagine Gandalf giggling? I couldn't at first, but when I suddenly did I couldm't stop smiling.


	34. Chapter 34: Haven

**Disclaimer:** If I could wish upon a star...

**AN:** Here we go again. Hope you all have a nice weekend.

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><p>Chapter 34 – Haven<p>

At his first sight of the city walls of Edoras, Edmund felt exhausted. He had hardly noticed it when the euphoric state left him and his siblings, or when the gloom consumed him once again. He was slouching atop Aril with Lucy in front. She was beginning to slacken her grip on the reins and prompted Edmund to take them from her hands. She sighed and leaned back as his arms encircled her.

The entire group was exhausted. All were striding slowly along and only keeping their eyes in front of them. Even Gandalf seemed unusually dimwitted. His droopy lower eyelids and his slow blinks. "I could sleep for a month," Pippin piped up from behind Eomer. The tall, silent, Rohan knight smirked, but otherwise showed no intention of answering. The only things visible of Pippin were his little hands as they gripped Eomer's sides.

"As could we all," Aragorn mumbled and smiled back in the direction he knew the hobbit to be. He wondered briefly if Merry _had_ fallen asleep. Glancing over at Lucy and Edmund he noticed that the young woman was fast asleep in her brother's arms. A look of such peace, only her unending trust in her brother could have caused. "How long has she been searching for you?"

Edmund jerked his head towards Aragorn before he shrugged. "For almost two weeks I suppose."

"You _both_ need sleep." Peter interrupted. He was striding slowly next to his brother and sister, keeping an eye on them. He would've felt better if Susan had been next to him as well, but she was safe between Aragorn and Gandalf.

Edmund nodded, far too tired to put up a worthy fight. Unexpectedly Peter reached out and placed a warm hand on his neck for comfort. Edmund sighed deeply and allowed his eyes to close, if only for a moment. Peter's thumb rubbed slow circles over his neck and almost lulled him to sleep then and there. He shook himself out of it and Peter begrudgingly removed the hand. "If I fall, who'll steer the horse?" he asked with a sly smirk his brother's direction.

Peter huffed back and returned his hand to the reins.

The crew of eight horses reached the lowlands in front of Edoras. The sun had hidden behind a great cloud that appeared to be coming from the north. Not storm clouds, but dark enough to promise rain. "Let's hope Eowyn has everyone settled in," Edmund said in a quiet voice.

Once inside, the four Pevensies kept to themselves. Susan and Lucy both wanted to offer their help, but didn't feel comfortable leaving their brothers. All four siblings sat on the same bed and stared at the people around them. People bustled around while they tried to keep a civil conversation. It was going poorly already, until a group of knights entered with a magnificent clatter. Then it turned downright impossible. Susan sighed and moved over to speak with Eomer, who had entered. Lucy noticed Eowyn and Morwen trying to put people into beds, but getting sidetracked by Morwen's two children. She turned in her seat and looked at her brothers a moment.

Both looked back at her calmly. She smiled. "I'm glad you're safe," She leaned in and kissed Edmund's cheek before she rose and left them alone.

They looked at each other a second before they both broke into smiles. But still no words were forthcoming. Peter gazed at his brother like said boy was a vision of long forgotten beauty. Edmund's eyes were dropping lower with each blink and he was seriously contemplating lying down next to his brother. With a mental shrug, this is what he did. Peter moved without a word to allow him to stretch, before he settled back against the low headboard. He put his hand on Edmund's forehead and carted said hand through the dark hair. The motion was mesmerizing for both, and they soon drifted off.

Aragorn happened upon them not long after and stopped with a smile. They looked years younger as they slept next to one another. Gandalf filled his wake, deeply engrossed in conversation with Legolas and Gimli, but Aragorn waved for them to be silent. All stopped in surprise and looked to where Aragorn gestured. They smiled and moved quietly along to a long table where Lucy and Susan were sitting with two mugs of ale for warmth.

"How fairs our Narnian kings and queens?" Gandalf asked as he took a seat across from Lucy. Aragorn took the one across from Susan a moment after.

Susan smiled and sipped her ale slowly. "The kings are sleeping and not a moment too soon."

Lucy giggled. Her own beverage was disappearing at a much more rapid pace than that of her sister. Susan didn't notice until Lucy reached for the pitcher a second time. "Poor things barely made it to a bed before they both collapsed." She frowned when Susan smoothly pulled the pitcher out of reach.

"You need to eat."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Yes, mum."

Susan ignored the jibe easily, afterhaving had years of training, and looked around for a bowl of soup. People were eating, but she couldn't find the source. It were the hobbits who saved her from moving when they brought over six bowls one by one. The members of the Fellowship settled around the table and quietly ate their suppers. Outside, it began raining. The heavy drops thrummed on the roof and a large hearth fire was blown back to life. Children of all ages were napping as well as knights and soldiers. Most of them snoring wildly. It made her brothers look less like children napping and more like soldiers resting.

As the day wore on and chores were seen to, the women began to relax and the men slowly woke up. The Fellowship had been excused, as had most soldiers, from any kind of chores around the city or in the hall. Even Susan and Lucy, though the oldest sister had half expected to be called upon. The king had joined his men in the hall and was eating with Eomer, Eowyn, Háma's son and Gamling in a corner. Lucy had managed to sneak two more drinks before Susan could stop her, but was holding her inebriation quite well.

She was no worse off than the hobbits or Gimli. Susan sighed and vowed to sick one or both of her brothers on her when they woke up.

As if called, she saw Edmund rise. He rubbed his face as he came over. "Good morn," He sat down as Aragorn vacated a seat next to Gandalf. The ranger returned with a bowl and Edmund reverently accepted. Aragorn took his seat next to Susan with a quick smile. She returned it before she turned her attention to Edmund. "How was your nap?" He was always skinny. Always pale. Tired very easily when he spent too much time inside. Susan had spent a great many years, trying to get him to eat more, to get out more and to play more.

"I do not _nap_," was his sullen reply.

She smiled at his foul mood. He was always a beast when he'd just woken up. He looked so small, hunched over his bowl like that. She had long ago realized it was a hopeless cause to pester him about his eating and sleeping habits, but still nagged him sometimes just for her own peace of mind. When he reached for a mug of ale, she deftly plucked it out of his reach. "Not until after supper."

Edmund scowled, remembering a time where he'd had wine with every meal. A time where he and Lucy had been known to best centaurs in drinking games – the creatures had _four_ stomachs and usually consumed more than _dwarves_. Not that Susan knew about said drinking games, nor that Edmund would ever tell her. It just smarted, knowing he could wield a sword better than a grown man and drink as well as one, but couldn't because his sister_ said so_. He scowled once more for good measure.

"Careful or your face will freeze," Lucy said sagely. She tipped her chalice all the way back and frowned when nothing more came out.

"I think you've had enough for one evening." Susan said and patted her sister's arm.

Lucy looked slightly confused as well as affronted and made Edmund scoff in an attempt to hide a smile. He reached out for the mug of ale again and was relieved when Susan didn't argue. Lucy's confusion turned to a scowl which she directed at him. "What about Edmund?" She smiled evilly.

Susan sighed. "It's not fair that you can drink when Edmund can't." she said in a vague attempt to justify her dislike for them both drinking, and snatched the mug back from her brother.

"Then how about they both drink?" Peter suggested and sat down at their table with a heavy clap on Edmund's shoulder.

Their friends were quietly watching and talking, but none seemed bothered by the attempts at parenting the youngest siblings. "I don't want to have to watch them all night, do you?" Susan glanced at Edmund and back at Peter. "You _do_ remember what happens when they start drinking?"

Edmund chuckled and made his brother smile. Susan sent him a suspicious look. "I'm not drunk!" he quickly defended with his shoulders high and palms up. Lucy giggled and switched Pippin's cup with her own without anyone the wiser. None except for Gandalf, that is. And he just shot her an indulgent smile.

"Tonight we celebrate," Aragorn looked closely at his dear friends. "Not many can say they have accomplished what we have. We should enjoy our victories."

Susan and Peter shared a sad look across the table. _But how long will those victories last?_ "What are the plans then?" Peter looked between Aragorn and Gandalf. "Where do we go from here?"

Both men fell quiet. "It's difficult to say anything. All I know with any kind of certainty is that the war is not over." Gandalf looked at both older Pevensies solemnly. "I know _that_." he mumbled to himself.

Susan and Peter shared a concerned glance, but Edmund robbed her brother's attention with a crude joke, no doubt terribly clever and stinging. Even as the three of them were laughing again, Susan looked at Aragorn and saw only concern. His deep, blue eyes were fixed on the other three Pevensies as they joked and laughed for the first time in what seemed like ages.

As the night wore on Susan felt a bit more at ease. Her loving little sister had managed to steal three more chalices of ale and had even given one to Susan. Lucy was presently learning how to dance the Squirrel Jig, taught to her by Merry and Pippin atop a table. Soldiers were laughing and clapping their hands, regardless of how many errors the three made. Susan smiled and turned in the other direction. Her youngest brother was teaching Gimli one of the many drinking songs he had learned from the dwarves in Narnia. He thought she didn't know about the drinking games. The Middle-Earth dwarf seemed very interested. It even seemed that the two were comparing notes at one point, which was around the time Susan decided to no longer pay her brother's alcoholism any mind.

Peter was faring far more gracefully as he sat and talked with Théoden over the same beer he'd poured a half an hour ago. She had a sneaking suspicion that Peter was trying to get a foot in the door on Théoden's plans in the coming war. As far as she could tell the king was declaring the war over. That didn't set well at all with Peter, if his frown was anything to go by. She knew an argument would probably erupt between the two before the night was over, but decided to wait and only interfere if things got out of hand.

In the middle of the festivities, Susan felt slightly left out. Lucy had no doubt noticed, which was why she had poured her older sister another drink. But Susan didn't feel like drinking. With one last look around the room, she left and headed for the stables.

Unknown to her, all her three siblings saw her leave. Edmund stopped drinking and shared a long look with Peter from across the room, before he stealthily went to grab Lucy away from the fun. Peter laid his argument with Théoden to rest, and followed Susan. He found her leaning against Nimzülae, stroking her neck. Moonlight was streaming in through the door and added a pale glow to the yellow lights from the lanterns. "What troubles you, Sister?" he asked calmly, but still managed to surprise her a little.

She jumped and smiled, embarrassed over how easily she scared. Peter smiled and moved over to pet Nimzülae with her. "I'm worried about us."

Peter nodded and kept stroking the horse's silver pelt. "You think there's more coming?"

Susan frowned and pondered how much to divulge. "Do you remember the prophecy I told you about in Lothlorien?"

Peter nodded and turned to face her fully. "I haven't told Edmund and Lucy, if that's what you're asking."

"Me neither. I think I'm scared it will become too real."

"To be honest I don't quite understand it." He looked towards the stable entrance when laughter filtered through the air. He identified it as Lucy's giggling.

"It doesn't get better when you do."

He looked at her and suddenly felt a little more worried. "Su, what's wrong?"

She was about to answer when their younger siblings made a loud entrance into the stable. Edmund shushed his sister without effect and giggled when it only made Lucy laugh louder. "Perhaps we should wait-" Susan was about to say.

"Edmund, Lucy. Come here a minute." Peter leaned against Nimzülae's booth and watched his younger siblings settle. "Susan and I have something to say."

Lucy and Edmund faltered a little over the seriousness in their brother's tone. Both suddenly looked sober again. Susan took a deep breath and dove in. "Have you two thought about why you're here?"

They shared a look and shook their heads.

"When I first arrived, I landed in a place called Rivendell." Susan continued. None of their younger siblings had heard her and Peter's stories yet, and she wondered how well they would take it. "I was there for almost two months before we set out on our journey."

"What journey?" Lucy asked and came closer. She suddenly looked completely sober. Only her slow blinking gave away anything.

"The journey to destroy a ring that has the ability to destroy this world." Peter filled in. He had heard some of his sister's story in the time before they reunited with Edmund and Lucy.

"That's why we were brought here," Edmund deduced. "To destroy a ring?"

Susan shook her head immediately. "No. That job was placed on a hobbit neither of you had the pleasure of meeting." She beckoned her siblings outside. Peter looked around for a decent place to talk and decided to climb a watchtower. The three others followed diligently. The guard was excused by Peter and left the Pevensies be.

"Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee are on their way to a place called Mordor to destroy the Ring." Susan said once they were alone.

"Gandalf mentioned Mordor while we were in the forest. He said it was the home of Saruman's ally." Lucy glanced at her dark-haired brother and noticed his quick shudder.

"It's true. Sauron made the Ring a long time ago and almost destroyed the earth with it." Susan explained. "For a long time the elves thought it lost until Bilbo Baggins found it and brought it to the Shire."

"Frodo's uncle?" Peter had heard stories from Frodo about his uncle, but the hobbit never mentioned that it was he who found the ring.

Susan nodded. "It was decided in Rivendell that the Ring should be destroyed and that the task should be Frodo's. He chose it."

"Where do you come in?" Edmund asked.

"I chose to help him go as far as I could. Along with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry and Pippin. Peter joined us in Lothlorien,"

"Another elven city. Like Rivendell." he interrupted to help his siblings understand.

"Right," Susan continued. "But Frodo left with Sam, and Merry and Pippin were taken. Up until now everything has happened so fast that there was never really an option to step away,"

Edmund nodded with a dark look. "But now there is."

Susan was torn whether or not she really wanted to resign from the Fellowship. She knew she would do anything in her power to keep her siblings safe. But had a terrible feeling it wasn't up to her. Wasn't she getting what she wanted when she asked for an adventure? "I would be lying if I said I didn't want you all to stay here." She pleaded with her eyes and looked at each of her brothers in turn. She knew Lucy was a bit more sensible about these things than them.

"What happens if Sauron finds the Ring?" Lucy asked with big eyes.

"He'll destroy the world." Peter said quietly.

Silence fell over the four. Susan could almost tell what her brothers would answer – with a great deal of annoyance on her part – but Lucy was a bit iffier. "I won't ask you to stay here, because I'm not sure _I_ would in your situation."

Edmund was staring at the floor while his brother stared hard at _him_. "You two should stay." he said to the girls. "Ed and I will set out after Frodo and help him."

This made Susan's blood boil. "I hope you're not making that an order?" She looked at her brother and jutted out her chin. "You can't ask me to abandon my friends. I _won't_."

"We've already seen more danger just by coming here. Me and Edmund landed right in the middle of it." Lucy said with a stalwart resolve. "I won't stay if you don't."

"Lucy-" Peter tried.

"No." Her eyes hardened like Peter's sometimes did. She wasn't named Valiant for nothing. "If there's anything I can do to help, I will."

"Then you should stay _here_. I'm sure Edoras can use all the help it can get." Peter tried.

"Then _you_ stay." his brave little sister challenged.

Peter ground his jaw and Susan could see the argument about to ensue. So she interrupted. "I follow Aragorn." All eyes turned to her. "Both because I gave Frodo my word and because there's something to the story you two don't know," She looked at Edmund and Lucy. "An elf named Elrond told me about a prophecy in Rivendell. _When the four corners of Middle-Earth meet, all shall be laid bare and the two towers shall fall_. One already has." She waited to see if they would understand on their own.

Both younger siblings looked a might confused so she continued. "Orthanc was the first tower."

Edmund's chest caved in with a shallow wheeze that everyone heard. Lucy's mouth dropped.

"That was because of you two." Susan said. "The East and West. Do you remember?" she asked, referring to their royal titles. Both frowned, but nodded. "Edmund, you were Duke of the Western Wild and Lucy," She smiled at the trusting expression on her sister's face. "You were Queen of the Glistening Eastern Sea."

"The four corners. . ." Peter mumbled.

Susan nodded. "We found each other and one tower fell. Don't you see? It's the prophecy." Her voice rose slightly as excitement filled her. "We made it come true just by searching each other out."

"What else should we have done?" Edmund asked.

"Exactly! We just do what comes natural to us as siblings. Of course we would seek out each other to make sure we were all safe."

"But we didn't do all that alone," Lucy reminded everyone. "I had help from Gandalf and Esodhal and Treebeard-"

"Yes, Lucy, we know." Peter interrupted. "But like it or not, we're making things happen just by being here."

"What does he mean by '_all will be laid bare_'?" Edmund interrupted. He was chewing on his lip.

Susan shrugged when she caught Peter glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know." But didn't she? She knew there was something she had yet to tell her siblings. The real reason she was there. And she suspected they were carrying similar secrets, if the prophecy was anything to go by.

"But shouldn't we stay together if that's what the prophecy says?" Lucy asked.

"Or try and find Frodo?" Peter supplied.

"I don't know." Susan repeated weakly. "All I know is that I'm following Aragorn wherever he may go. But I took an oath and you have taken none." She saw her siblings physically respond to the regal speech by straightening their backs and squaring their shoulders. "We may not have our crowns, but we still have our knowledge. We still might know something that will help in the long run."

She looked at them and slowly felt surer about her decision. She could see the urge for adventure in their eyes as well. "No matter what, we make decisions as a group from now on." Peter declared. "If we need to split up everyone has to agree. Alright?"

All three nodded.

"Good."

Lucy smiled. "Are you sure you can keep with that, Peter?" She tipped her head sweetly like she always did when she wanted something out her oldest brother. "You're not very good at following orders. What if we disagree?"

Peter narrowed his eyes, but couldn't keep the stern expression in the glow of Lucy's endearing smile. "I'll do my best to listen."

"Right." all three huffed.

"Oi!"

His indignant shout threw them into a fit of giggles that followed them back into the main hall. Once inside they were met by merriment. Lucy rejoined Merry and Pippin, but was noticeably less jovial. Peter steered clear of Théoden for the rest of the night and started drinking with Aragorn and Gandalf. Susan and Edmund sat down in a quiet corner and watched the lightheartedness unfold. It was a long time since either had seen a party like this. Parties in England were much more controlled. Without speaking, they knew they had both missed the roaring fires and the heavy drinks. The eas with which they moved in such settings. As Lucy let out a bubbling laugh, they knew they had missed this more than they knew. When Edmund's eyes began to drop, Susan put her arm around his shoulders and started humming.

It was barely audible over the noise, but still it lulled him into a strange trance for almost an hour. By then many merrymakers had passed out in their cots and Peter had joined them on the bench. When Edmund lazily opened his eyes again, it was only to be ushered into bed along with Lucy. After tucking in their siblings, Peter settled in the bed next to his brother.

Susan caught the eye of Aragorn and smiled. She wasn't sure what the future would bring. All she had was the promise she'd made to the one who wasn't there anymore. To Frodo and Sam, who were miles away, deep in hostile territory. Fighting against an enemy that some said couldn't be stopped. All she knew was that she would do anything to keep that promise. Anything at all.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Next one on its way. I'm aiming to finish the story before my vacation :)


	35. Chapter 35: Rude Awakening

**Disclaimer:** Still wishing...

**AN:** Consider the respite over.

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><p>Chapter 35 – Rude Awakening<p>

The hall woke to a roar of sound. For a few seconds after waking Peter wasn't sure what had roused him. The roar he'd heard faded to shouts and belligerent howls. "Aragorn!" Legolas' voice was easily distinguishable amidst the shouts. Peter rolled out of bed with Rhindon in his hand before his feet hit the floor.

Edmund was next to him within seconds with the elven styled sword out and ready. "Gandalf, what's happening?" their sister shouted from somewhere in the darkness.

Several lanterns were lit and they saw Legolas leaning over Aragorn while Gandalf leaned over Pippin. "Oh no." Lucy sighed.

When he glanced to his right he saw that Susan had a bleary look in her eye and her bow ready. "What's going on?" She looked like she wasn't quite awake yet.

Peter looked back and saw Gandalf put his hand on Pippin's forehead. "Can we help?" he asked into the silence that had settled after the uproar. His question had been directed at Gandalf and no one else dared answer.

Not until the old wizard rose from his crouch and blinked heavily, did he let out the breath he'd been holding. He felt, more than saw, his brother mirror him.

"No. The danger has passed." Gandalf called authoritatively. "Fool of a Took!" he hissed.

"What was that?" "Aragorn asked blearily. Susan moved over and kneeled next to him and Legolas.

"Exactly what I was afraid of when he first found the Palanthir in Isengard." Gandalf growled. "Pippin saw inside the mind of Sauron and in there found glimpses of his plan." The Fellowship unconsciously moved closer. "Sauron intends to march upon Minas Tirith."

"Eru. . ." Legolas moaned.

"Yes." Gandalf answered crassly. "If Eru truly existed, _now_ would be an opportune time for him to appear." Peter didn't miss the glare the wizard sent his way.

"So we go to Minas Tirith?" he asked instead. Adrenalin was pumping through him and right now he was still alert enough that he needed to _do_ something.

Gandalf sighed and visibly calmed. "Yes, I fear I must." He glanced back at Pippin.

"Then I'm coming with you." Peter declared in a strong voice.

"What?" Susan shrieked.

He could feel the heavy gazes of all his siblings. "You practically said it yourself, Su. We don't know enough about why we're here. Right now my instincts are telling me to follow Gandalf. Shouldn't I follow my feelings?" he challenged her with his chin raised.

"Remember what we agreed, brother." Edmund wisely remarked. He could tell his older sister was less than happy with his sudden decision to leave. He knew he would have the fight of the century on his hands if he couldn't stop it. He was sure the members of the Fellowship had seen many dangers, but in all his years Edmund had never seen anything as terrifying as when his two older siblings fought. It was like watching a hurricane hit a mountain.

"I will remain." Aragorn calmly said. Legolas and Gimli didn't have to affirm their position, and simply stayed silent.

In the corner all eyes turned to Merry and Pippin. "I will bring Pippin with me." Gandalf said in a voice loud enough to make both hobbits look over.

Pippin looked absolutely terrified and Merry looked sadder than usual. Lucy thought for a brief moment that Merry reminded her of Mr. Tumnus. The way he always looked sad and happy at the same time, like most fauns. She exhaled through her nose. "I'll stay with Susan regardless of what she decides."

Susan looked at her sister in surprise. "I'm staying with Aragorn." Lucy nodded and Susan returned it.

"I'll stay with Pete." Edmund announced. He could tell his brother was about to argue, but beat him to it. "I'm pretty sure Susan and Lucy won't let you leave alone. Remember what you said? We all have to agree or none of us go."

Peter glared and swallowed down his argument. He wanted his brother and sisters safe. More than that, he knew Edmund wasn't yet one hundred percent. He wanted most of all to tie him to a bed and leave knowing he was safe. He growled and tried to remind himself that this was what he had wanted. He wasn't the High King here and had little sway over his siblings beyond the role of the oldest. Even Susan had more to say than him since she had spent more time here than any of them.

Gandalf watched the exchange wearily. He wasn't sure it was wise to travel with more than one horse, but suddenly felt completely outvoted in the decision-making process. He reminded himself that these were not children he was dealing with, but kings and queens. Rulers, long bereft of the ability to make decisions for others, let alone themselves. And though they mostly acted like children, he knew they possessed the natural authority to step up to their previous roles at any given time. "Very well. Be ready to leave at dawn."

With demonstrative movements he left them all standing and went back to bed. He closed his eyes, which he usually never did even in sleep, and prayed everyone would leave him to his thoughts and return to theirs. Just one night of silence to consider his next move. That was all he asked.

Edmund moved over to Lucy while Susan ushered Merry and Pippin back to bed. The hobbits didn't much mind the mothering. Susan felt heartbroken over the completely desolate expression on Pippin face. "Easy. It will be alright." she whispered as she tucked him back in. Pippin could only nod mutely before he rolled over and pulled the covers up to his ears. Merry stared at her a moment before he too lay down.

"I'll need Aril." Edmund whispered to Lucy. She nodded mutely with her eyes fixated on Pippin's back.

"Take it. I can find another."

"Thank you." He kissed her cheek and left to return to his own bed.

He vaguely saw Peter put Rhindon back in its sheath and lie down. He knew he was mad, but didn't want to start an argument this late at night. Not when everyone was tired and high strung. It seemed Peter didn't share his sentiments. "You should stay here."

Edmund barely heard his whisper, but knew he couldn't ignore him. He rolled to his side and watched through dark eyes that gave nothing away. "Back to back." he whispered.

Peter closed his eyes and turned his back on Edmund.

The dark-haired Pevensie sighed and rolled to his back to stare at the ceiling. A rat was quietly making its way across the rafters in search of food. He was surprised it hadn't been scared off by all the commotion. He heard Lucy crawl back into the bed next to him. Someone doused the lanterns and darkness fell again. After almost fifteen minutes of not sleeping, he felt his sister by his side, nudging him over.

"I'm cold." she whispered.

It would be a cold day in hell before anyone could refuse a voice like that. So he moved and flipped off his covers so she could crawl in. She cuddled close to his side and stretched an arm over his chest. It was surprisingly easy to sleep with her so close. He was always tense when he and Peter fought – the few times they did – and usually nothing helped. It seemed he had found the remedy to Peter's cold shoulder and his own insomnia. A young girl with even breathing. Within minutes he fell asleep.

That night he had his first nightmare about Saruman.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So let's leave this on a slightly uneasy note. TBC.


	36. Chapter 36: Bitter Dawn

**Disclaimer:** Don't own.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the love. And Cretin, I'm taking that nickname to heart :) It's one of the cooler ones as far as nicknames go.

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><p>Chapter 36 – Bitter Dawn<p>

Gandalf, Pippin, Peter and Edmund left that morning. The siblings had sensed Peter's foul mood and walked around on eggshells until their departure. Susan had even gone so far as to offer him to ride on Nimzülae, which Peter crossly refused. It was _her_ horse, _she_ should keep it. Gandalf had sent Susan a peeved look for trying to trade horses. She responded by ignoring him the rest of the morning. Did he think she didn't know Nim was more than just a horse? That was precisely why she felt Peter should have ridden her. Nim seemed wasted on herself.

After their departure, the remaining members of the Fellowship had eaten a quiet breakfast until Aragorn saw fit to break it. "Gandalf intends to light the beacons to call Théoden for aid. The king will have no choice but to answer the call."

"He _could_ refuse though, right?" Susan cautiously asked. She relished the chance to dispel the tense atmosphere that lingered and jumped at Aragorn's in.

"Yes," the ranger answered while he picked at his porridge.

Realizing she had said the wrong thing, Susan again clammed up and focused on eating her food quietly. As if a heaven sent, Lucy suddenly decided she had had enough silence and sighed loudly. She let her head thump against Susan's shoulder which instantly brought smiles to their faces. Later on Lucy quietly asked her sister if Peter was mad at her. Susan told her that their brother was just anxious and reminded Lucy of all the times he had been worried for them. As she said it, she recognized an alarming pattern in her brother's moods. Whenever he was worried about one of them it would come off as anger. And because the siblings were so incredibly in tuned to each other's feelings it often darkened the collective mood.

Susan decided to focus on finding her sister a horse and getting them both ready to leave when the call came. Lucy embraced the attempt at distraction wholeheartedly and spent the whole day with Eowyn and Susan, trying to find just the right horse.

When the sun dipped lower in the sky and the air cooled, there was still no word from the others. Susan wondered anxiously how long it would take. How long she could keep herself and Lucy occupied until word came.

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><p><strong>On the move…<strong>

No one spoke all day. Gandalf tried valiantly to engage both Peter and Edmund in conversation, but only succeeded in rousing Pippin's curiosity at every piece of tuft that blew by them. The hobbit was an endless well of questions and not even Gandalf's growls could hold him off. "I'll go look for more wood." Peter announced and left the party.

Though it was a three day journey, it was the only time they would stop to rest, so Pippin insisted they make a hot meal. "I'll come with you." Edmund said quickly. He could tell by the glare that his brother resented the company, but didn't speak up against it. The youngest King half expected a lecture on the importance of privacy, or at the very least a frustrated "_Edmund_". But Peter said nothing. Edmund's shoulders slumped and he meekly followed his brother. He wasn't sure where Peter intended to find said firewood – their surroundings were quite flat – but figured the insight wouldn't be welcome just then. Instead he set about picking what little twigs there were. Peter followed his move, coming to the same conclusion as his brother, but too proud to admit it.

It was only five minutes until Edmund reached his limit. "Why are you being such a dolt?" He hurled down every twig he had gathered in an open show of frustration.

Peter grumbled something and kept moving, but Edmund wouldn't have it.

"Peter, look at me!"

His older brother stopped and turned with a lethal glare. "I'd rather just get this done."

"Is it because I wouldn't listen to you?" Edmund pressed. He knew that was exactly the reason, whether Peter wanted to admit it or not.

"No."

The youngest brother actually growled. "Would you have reacted like this if it was Susan?" he challenged.

Peter stopped, sighed and hurled down his own twigs. "I didn't ask for this-"

"None of us did!" Edmund roared. His poor sleep had made him short tempered and his brother's ignorance was only adding to the frustration. "But you _promised_ you would listen instead of always trying to have your way with everything!" It was just one step shy of calling him bossy and Edmund knew he was coming dangerously close to sounding like a child.

"You should have stayed with Lucy and Susan!" he roared. "They need your help more than I do."

Edmund paled a little and knew his brother noticed by the guilty look that flashed across his face. "I thought I explained my feelings about this to you,"

"I know, back to back, side by side. We've been fighting that way for years, Edmund."

"Not just fighting, Peter." He moved a step closer, not entirely sure his brother wouldn't take a swing at him in his current mood. "With _everything_. Oreus beat that mantra into our heads and it stuck. We used to do everything together," He took another cautious step. "Or do you not remember?"

Peter huffily ran a hand over his face, but didn't answer.

Edmund took another step. Just one more and he could reach out. "I'm not just with you because I think _you_ need protection. Did it ever occur to you that _I_ might need _you_?" It must have been his earnest expression that made his brother look so guilty.

It had, but in the heat of the concern for his siblings and anger that they constantly went against his wishes, Peter had forgotten it. He was acutely aware that his brother might still be reeling from his horrible experience with Saruman, but in his pride he had ignored it. The shame crashed over him like a wave. Edmund was breathing deeply as if he had just run a mile. "I've been horrible. I forgot what I promised last night."

The dark-haired Pevensie flashed a quick smirk that almost reached his eyes. "It was only last night. It needs time to fester."

Peter smirked at the poor attempt at absolution. "It doesn't excuse me, Edmund. I was an absolute beast to you and the girls this morning."

"They know why, Peter, it's alright."

The oldest Pevensie took two, long steps and grabbed his brother's arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but fell short when no words came to him. He gave Edmund a halfhearted shove without letting go. "I'm sorry. . ." he said lamely. He suddenly realized how comforting it was to hold his brother. Even if Edmund didn't need the comfort, it always made Peter feel better to give it. Especially after apologizing for being a dolt.

"I know, brother." Edmund smirked and allowed himself to be shaken. "Our sisters know too."

Peter glanced down, but couldn't manage to hide his sad expression. Edmund huffed loudly and earned a quick, guilt ridden smile from his older brother. The guilty smile turned sad again as something struck Peter. "I heard you last night." He watched in regret as his brother reeled in his emotions lightning quick. "What was it about?"

Edmund cleared his throat unconsciously and started picking the twigs he'd dropped. "Saruman." he whispered.

Peter shivered at his brother's physical reaction. "I never want you to go through that again." he sighed into the cool air.

Edmund huffed. "There wasn't much you could do, Peter-"

"Not that." he interrupted. "The nightmare. I want to help you get through this." He made sure to try and catch his brother's eye. "I want you to know you can always come to me," Edmund still refused to look directly at him. "Doesn't matter if we've been fighting. You can always talk to me and I _want_ you to. Understand?"

Edmund nodded jerkily.

Peter accepted that this was all he would get from his brother and let go. "I think we should get back. Gandalf is probably getting worried."

"Or sick of Pippin's questions," Edmund fired off like a whip.

Peter laughed earnestly and picked up the twigs he had dropped. Edmund followed, as he had every day of their reign, half a step behind his brother.

True to his word, Gandalf seemed pleased to have them back where he could keep an eye on them. Peter noticed the way the old wizard spoke to Edmund and smiled. It seemed Gandalf had taken a liking to his brother and who was Peter to fault him? He, himself had nothing but pride and love for Edmund.

Pippin proudly announced that he was making beef stew and praised both brothers for finding so much wood. Peter looked at the slim pile doubtfully, but reminded himself that hobbit size was a great deal smaller than normal human sizes. It seemed to be a uniquely _hobbitesque_ trait since he couldn't remember Narnian dwarves ever dealing with everything in smaller amounts.

Despite portion size, the meal was filling and tasty. When asked, Pippin delved into a monologue on the importance of herbs and mushrooms. Peter cowed under the dirty look Edmund sent him for asking. After the meal Gandalf wanted to mount and continue riding, but Peter was worried that his brother needed rest. Edmund cut him off from speaking by agreeing with Gandalf. And so they mounted. The sun had set and the sky was darkening. Half of the eastern sky, their current heading, was already deep blue; filled with unfamiliar constellations twinkling down at them. To the west there was still a faint glow across the horizon. Peter kept turning in his saddle to catch the last glimpses of light. He loosened the reins to Axis and tried to compare this sunset to a Narnian one.

He frowned when he couldn't recall any particular Narnian sunset. Even more so when he thought that he might never again see one again.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> TBC.


	37. Chapter 37: Ithillien

**Disclaimer:** Read previous.

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><p>Chapter 37 – Ithillien<p>

On the third day of travel the four companions reached the crossroads that marked the direction of Northern Ithillien to one side, and to Minas Tirith on the other. Peter looked towards the east with a deep shudder. The sky was black and orange the further east you peered. Mordor. The others stopped subconsciously and looked in the same direction. "We should go by Ithillien." Peter mumbled, not quite understanding why he wanted to go so bad.

Edmund cast him a curious look, but didn't argue with his brother's instincts. They had saved many a men over the years.

"Why? What burns there that you need to find so bad?" Gandalf asked.

Peter glanced back at him with a slight frown, permanently etched between his eyes. "I think Frodo's there."

This didn't seem to alarm, or even surprise, the wizard. Gandalf simply nodded and looked down. "He has come far since he and you parted ways. It's possible he has come beyond the Dead Marshes." Gandalf looked up from the ground and back at Peter. "Very well. You should follow your feelings." He seemed quite at ease with allowing two kings to travel towards Mordor alone.

Pippin piped up from behind him. "What? You can't send them on alone." The little hobbit looked worriedly from one brother to the other.

No one doubted that Edmund would follow Peter. None but Edmund himself, as it turned. Secretly he wondered if he would cause more attention if he tagged along. But a much larger part of him, a much more prevalent part, knew he would never let his brother ride off into dangerous territory alone.

"This is their journey as much as it is ours, little one." Gandalf turned Shadowfaxe with nothing but a flick of his wrist. "We must respect their decision." Without so much as a farewell, he kicked the horse into a brisk canter and continued on towards Minas Tirith.

The brothers spent a few moments watching them ride off before they shared a look. "You sure?" Edmund asked. He wasn't sure what his brother even wanted out of a meeting with Frodo, never having met the brave hobbit.

Peter turned towards the east. "I think so."

Without putting too much thought into their departure from the road to Minas Tirith, he turned his horse around. "Alright then. Let's go."

The path towards Ithillien was choppy and difficult to traverse. It involved crossing the mighty Anduin River. There were no easy crossings south of Cair Andros. The only shallow stretch for miles was located some four miles off the main route. It was a part of the river that broke into slim streams with strong currents just north of the Field of Cormallen. Edmund studied the mighty river and wondered just how far it stretched.

"It's the Anduin. Susan and I crossed it just north of this magnificent fall called Rauros that marked the entrance to Gondor."

"When was this?" Edmund asked.

"About a fortnight ago I think, maybe more." Peter frowned as he studied the river. It would be difficult to cross, but not impossible. "Time is so easy to forget when you're not keeping track."

Edmund nodded, knowing what his brother meant. When one had schedules and plans to abide, time was easy to tell. When there was nothing but the monotony of wandering or riding, it became harder. The days had a tendency to blend, and only the changing of the seasons eventually mattered. "Where do you think we should cross?"

Peter pointed to a string pattern of slim, but strong currents. "There."

Edmund followed his direction and nodded, agreeing. "I'm worried about the horses." He wasn't sure they would make it through the river and even less sure they could take the rough terrain beyond it.

"They'll make it." In reflex to his steadfast faith in the horses, Peter's thighs tightened around Axis' flanks and the good horse responded with a loud whicker. He smirked and glanced at his brother. "But we'll get mighty wet."

"Soaked," Edmund sighed regretfully. "Try to keep your bed roll above water."

Peter nodded and began making his way into the first of five streams. Edmund followed his brother dutifully into the first crossing. Out of the five streams three of them looked to be troublesome. He was proved right. The two first branches of the Anduin River were deep and the currents were strong. Two times he almost lost control of Aril's reins and was swept away by the river. Only Peter's shouting – which aggravated, but also centered him – kept him above water. It reminded him somewhat of Oreius and all the times their good general had shouted at them on the training grounds. Once you'd had a centaur hurl flaming boulders at you, whilst screaming for you to move faster or die, most other things seemed tame in comparison.

Edmund smirked when the memory popped up just as he was exiting the second crossing after his brother. Almost as if sensing his smile, Peter turned with a quirked brow. "Anything I should know?"

Edmund let out a little chuckle. "Do you remember our first month with Oreius?"

Peter was already smiling just from hearing his brother laugh. He let out his own chortle at the memory. "That was the most horrid month of my life."

"Worse than the week after we pulled that prank on him our fifth year?" he asked incredulously.

Peter scoffed arrogantly. "If my memory serves, it was _you_ and not _we_ who pulled that joke."

"Oh come off it. You can't hide behind those blond locks forever-"

"You poured purple die into the man's water, Ed! I swear, I talked to every one of those naiads and _none_ of them could tell me how you did it!"

"It was quite easy, actually." he answered nonchalantly. "I switched his bottle with one laced with violet ochre-dust."

He barked a laugh. "And I still can't believe we got off that easy," It turned to a near manic giggle. "He walked around for three days before anyone told him!"

Edmund laughed with. "He was intimidating as high heaven. I'm surprised anyone told him at all."

"Speaking of who told who what, did you ever find out who tattled?" Peter turned halfway in his saddle.

"No." Edmund said crossly as his brother smirked and turned again. Edmund sulked a few seconds before it turned to suspicion. "Why are you smiling?"

Peter had his back turned and even so he pegged his brother's satisfied smirk. "No reason."

"Peter. . ."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Peter Pevensie, did you tell!" the Just King demanded.

Peter let out a loud bark of laughter and tried to sound indignant. "No! Heavens, Ed. You're getting paranoid in your old age."

Edmund glared daggers at his brother's back for the next half hour. He refused to let his suspicion go so easily when his brother looked _that_ gleeful, even as they were battling through the remaining four streams. It _had_ to be him. It just _had_ to. . .

But as Edmund was about to question his brother's memory as well as his aptitude for lying, Peter suddenly halted. "We're here."

_Here_ wasn't how Edmund would have described where they were. It was just the first of many hills which led to the incline that marked the Ithillien boarder. "Where to now?" he asked with a glance at the back of Peter's head.

The High King sighed listlessly. "I don't know."

Behind him Edmund rolled his eyes, but didn't speak of his bubbling frustration. "Well we could keep heading east?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Or we could head south? Follow the path to Osgillicad-"

"Osgili_ath_,"

"Yes. That." Edmund watched his brother carefully. "What do you want to do?"

Peter looked over the horizon with an uneasy feeling. "I'd rather not head too far south this side of the river."

"Why not?" Edmund arched a brow.

"Doesn't feel right."

The younger brother rolled his eyes again. "At some point you _will_ have to tell me where you get all this information from."

Peter glared back.

His brother shrugged in defense. "I'm just saying."

He turned back with another sigh.

"You remind me of Lucy during our reign, before we found out about her Calormene spies," Edmund continued. "I used to think she had a crystal ball, the way she always whisked Susan off just in time to avoid suitors."

Peter smirked absentmindedly at his brother's rambling, but kept his eyes on their surroundings.

"Always was too sneaky for her own good, that girl-"

"Something's wrong." Peter mumbled.

"Many things are wrong, brother. You'll have to be a bit more specific." Though his voice was light, his hand was already moving to his sword. He knew better than to disregard his brother's instincts. Just as he knew not to ignore his own.

"Did you hear that?" Peter tilted his head and stared into the bright sunlight.

It was a warm day, warmer than any of the previous ones. Edmund now felt pretty sure that summer was approaching. But disregarding the weather, he tilted his head as well and listened. Sure enough, there was a strange sound on the wind.

"It sounds familiar," Peter muttered. It sounded like an animal call. One he'd heard before, but couldn't place.

"Elephants." Edmund suddenly said. Peter turned to look at him. "It sounds like an elephant." He remembered them quite clearly from Narnia. One of their tutors in etiquette had been a large elephant lady named Sasha. The other had been the only Giraffe in their country who wore large hoop earrings. A lady named Avalynn.

With a wide-eyed look Peter dismounted Axis and started walking cautiously ahead. Edmund followed him on foot as well. They crested a hill and nearly leapt out of their skins. Beneath them was a narrow valley, full of men and large elephant-like creatures. "I'm not sure these are like the elephants from home, Ed." They quickly pulled their horses back so they wouldn't be seen.

Edmund's large eyes followed one of the creatures as it pounded by them without noticing a thing. There was a man dressed in black, guiding it. "Looks Calormene," he muttered.

Peter all but ignored him when something caught his attention. "There," he hissed. "On the other side." He pointed.

Edmund followed his direction and had to blink at what he saw. A shadow had slid under a heavy bush before it vanished. "You think it's one of their scouts?"

"No. He had fair hair."

Edmund glanced quickly at his brother. "You noticed that?"

"M-hm." Peter was watching with rapt attention as more shadowy figures slid across the next hill. "We need to get to that hill."

Edmund sighed. He had expected as much. "We can't cross here, so there's the option to run ahead and risk being seen. Or we can climb back down and come around them from the back."

"The back."

Without another word Edmund slid back down from the hill and quietly pulled Aril and Axis further away. Peter followed after a few minutes. "It looks like a long party. I don't know how far north we'll have to go to not be seen."

"Who do you think those men were?" Edmund asked, referring to the 'fair-haired' scout they'd seen on the other side.

"Rohan, maybe? Perhaps Gondorian?"

Edmund shrugged. They were at a huge disadvantage, never having seen Gondorians before. Not really knowing _anything_ about the world they had been so unceremoniously plunked into. For that he resented Aslan more than he realized. Come to think of it, he just felt angrier than he used to a lot of the time. "Perhaps they're just a scouting party sent out by the Calormene-looking fellows. Maybe we shouldn't be following imaginary blonds instead of riding to Minas Tirith to warn Gandalf."

His tone brought Peter to a halt. "I thought you wanted to be here?"

"I don't. But I can't exactly leave you alone, now can I?"

"Where's this coming from, Ed?"

Edmund growled and flapped his hands uselessly when he realized the conversation was heading in a direction he didn't want it to. "Nowhere. Let's just go. I'm here." He took a deep breath and looked at his brother seriously. "I'm here, let's go."

Peter arched a brow, but didn't look angry. "You sure?" More concerned.

"Yes." he answered evenly.

As though he didn't believe him, Peter spent another moment looking him over before he grabbed the reins to Axis and started walking north.

It wasn't until his brother's back was turned that Edmund allowed his shoulders to drop. It wasn't until they did that he noticed how tightly wound he had been. It took a lot less to get his temper flaring these days. And the maddening part was he couldn't quite understand _why_.

After almost a full hour the brothers reached the tail end of the war party. The Black Calormenes, as they had named them. Edmund thought they had the same southern glow and the same dark hair-color as most Calormenes. The only difference was that these men wore black, whereas Calormenes had a fondness of bright colors. The last group passed them and they quietly made their way up into the foothills east of them. Edmund was worried that their horses would draw too much attention, but chose to keep his worry to himself. His brother knew what he was doing. Edmund had to believe in that; _that_, and the added comfort of knowing they could make a quick getaway. "Hold up." Edmund called.

Peter stopped and turned as Edmund bent down to inspect the ground.

"They passed through here."

"You sure? I don't see anything."

There was really nothing to see. No tracks and no signs that anyone had passed by except for slightly trod down soil and a broken twig. "They're quite good." Edmund mumbled. "They cover their tracks if they even make any. They move around the vegetation rather than through it."

"So what happened here?" Peter asked, pointing to the broken twig.

"Something unexpected as far as I can reckon." Edmund looked up and around. "They probably ran into someone."

A thought struck Peter. "Keep an eye out for any tracks."

"They're not going to leave any tracks."

Peter shook his head. "These wouldn't belong to them. Look for tracks that look like children made them."

Edmund frowned, but nodded. They watched their speed and tried to make as little noise as possible. The shrub was dense and it was nearly impossible to move soundlessly with two horses in tow. "Here," Edmund whispered for his brother to stop. He bowed down and ran his fingers over the dry soil. "Children's tracks." He looked back up at his brother. "How did you know?"

Peter sighed and a sad expression slipped over his face. "Frodo."

Edmund crawled across the ground with his fingers trailing the shallow tracks. "I count three different ones, not left by your blonde."

Peter frowned. "There's only supposed to be two."

Edmund shook his head whilst staring at the ground. "That's what I see."

"Then who's the third?"

Edmund shook his head again. "Don't know. The tracks are a little larger, but still too small to belong to an adult." He looked to his brother, but Peter remained clueless.

"I hope it's a friend and not someone following them." He looked around and took in his surroundings. "There was a fight here." he said and kneeled next to an extinguished fire. "Someone grabbed them." He couldn't hide the worry in his voice.

Edmund stared at his back with his own worry. Not for Frodo, but for his brother. "We'll find them, Pete."

Peter looked up and smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"We'll find them." Edmund said again and nudged Aril with him. He took the front position and allowed his brother a moment to gather his thoughts. His dark eyes eagerly tracked whichever tracks they could. They were clearer since the hobbits had been snatched, but still vague. The brothers followed them till they reached a small forested area. A fall and a deep pool, surrounded by rocks. "The tracks stop here." Edmund quietly called. The afternoon sun barely reached the bottom of the little gorge. His brother tied Axis to a tree and Edmund followed him. Then they both looked up.

"How can tracks just end?" Peter asked.

Edmund glanced from the fall and to Peter. He looked up again and sighed. "Guess we'll have to climb up and check." Without word from his High King he unlaced his leather hauberk and shrugged out of it. Peter followed his example though he took greater care with his armor. They purposely left their swords by their sides and started climbing the rocky face.

Peter slipped a couple times, whereas Edmund seemed to have more trouble reaching far enough to find purchase. It wasn't the first time either brother had gone rock climbing. In Narnia both had taken to climbing the rocks along parts of the northern shores. But that had always been in the company of Mountain Goats and Monkeys to guide them. Though the climb was short, it was without safety-nets or guides. Peter was sweating and not from the physical exhaustion. His eyes kept following his brother every time Ed missed an outcropping or slipped.

Edmund was the first to reach a narrow cut path. He pulled himself up and next his brother. "Seems like it leads behind the falls." he said with his eyes tracking the slender trail. He glanced back and Peter nodded for him to continue. He pulled his sword and advanced into the cave. He heard his brother pull Rhindon as well.

There were no sounds besides the roaring of the waterfall, but one could never be too sure.

As they entered the cave, they discovered it was empty. A few remnants of a fire, but other than that there was nothing. A couple of footprints. "So they stopped here," Edmund looked around.

Peter hung back and allowed his brother to think aloud. He knew the very best of hunters weren't only able to read tracks, but get inside the minds of their prey. His brother had always been better at that than him. It took one to know one, he suspected, but didn't have the heart to tell his brother.

"They made camp. Probably to interrogate the hobbits."

"In that case they must know by now that he carries the Ring." Peter's voice turned grave.

Edmund's face fell, not from the shock of the information, but from the look on his brother's face. He still wasn't quite sure what this Ring was capable of, but his brother's reaction didn't exactly warm him. "Do you have _any_ idea who these men might be?" Edmund was running out of answers.

Peter shook his head. "Maybe Gondorians? It would make sense seeing as we're in their territory."

Edmund nodded and sat down. His brother was about to ask what he was doing, but Edmund waved him off. "It's past noon and we've only eaten breakfast. Sit. We can spare half an hour."

Peter looked in the direction of their horses, but sat. He accepted the dried meats and bread his brother offered. They shared what little wine they had, though it had already been watered down twice.

They ate quietly and listened to the waterfall. It was quite pretty, the cave, Edmund thought. It didn't seem optimal as a scouting outpost though. It was too secluded to serve any kind of purpose, and the fall covered most of the view. One had to wonder why Gondorians were even there. The entire place seemed like something men would usually treat with reverence. It seemed to have a certain glow about it. So why defile it by bringing their prisoners here? Perhaps because of the Black Calormenes, passing through the area. "I don't think the Gondorians were looking for Frodo." He looked at his brother to see what he thought.

Peter frowned.

"I think perhaps they were tracking the mercenaries."

Peter thought about that a moment and nodded thoughtfully. "It would make sense. Also it's my hope that Frodo's journey is still unknown to any but us."

Edmund nodded. "But if our fair-haired scout has learned about the Ring, who will he take it to?"

"If he's Gondorian he'll take it to the Steward." Peter offered. He had only heard the man mentioned a couple times and already didn't like him.

"Then we should probably get going so we can cut them off," Edmund hopped to his feet and held out a hand for his brother. He accepted it with a smile, which faded the second Edmund let go.

There was something Edmund wasn't telling him. It was worrisome. Ever since their second trip to Narnia the two had been unnaturally close. Able to read each other's minds. But after everything Edmund had been through with Saruman it was like he had closed off. Despite the few days after they reunited Edmund seemed almost scared of everyone else. He was guarded and quiet. Usually the quietness that persevered wouldn't have bothered Peter. Edmund was naturally a very quiet man, but something about this new found silence didn't sit right. It felt forced.

"Let's go," Edmund said and hoisted his little sack onto his back.

They carefully climbed down to find their horses were where they had left them. Both animals eating calmly when the boys returned. The magnificent creatures raised their heads and perked their ears when their new masters approached them. "Hello, Gorgeous." Edmund lightly greeted Aril. She was a beautiful bay mare. Calm and strong. He knew she wasn't a Talking Animal, but it felt strange not to talk to her. He never could look at animals the same way after Narnia. It seemed wrong to treat them like dumb beasts.

Peter's stallion was a little less compliant and gave a loud whicker when his master arrived. Peter quickly placed a hand on his nose to keep him calm. Axis excitedly scraped his foreleg along the ground and bobbed his head eagerly. Peter grinned. He had the same notions as his brother. Animals just seemed like so much _more_ since Narnia. It felt wrong to look down at them. "Ready?" he called for his brother just as Edmund swung into the saddle with a grin.

"When you are."

Peter smiled back and swung himself onto Axis. "Think you'll be able to follow the trail on horseback?"

Edmund smirked. "It wouldn't be the first time." He impatiently waved Peter along, but his brother pulled aside and allowed Edmund to pass him.

"You've always been better at this than I. Even Susan is better than me,"

Edmund smirked with his back turned. It wasn't rare for him to receive praise from his brother, but certain praises were more treasured than others. Whenever Peter commented on his skills with a sword, or fighting skills in general, the younger king always felt embarrassed. But tracking was a skill he was particularly proud of. It had been taught to him by a Wolf during their rule. He knew his brother had always had difficulties dealing with Wolves. It was a side effect of killing Maugrim: The first Narnian Peter ever killed. It had left a mark, Edmund knew. It had made his brother bias to any and all Wolves since then.

The fact that Aslan had named him Sir Peter Wolfsbane afterwards didn't help matters. It only justified Peter's dislike for the creatures. Edmund sighed. So praises like those were rare. And whenever Peter gave them, Edmund felt a little more whole. He smirked again before he returned his focus to the trail.

They rode on for almost two hours before he spotted a change. Edmund held up a hand and stopped. "Do you hear that?"

Peter stopped to listen. "The mercenaries?"

"No." Edmund's voice was a whisper. "It sounds like soldiers." He turned to look at his brother. "Remember how the Black Calormenes hardly made any sound at all?"

Peter nodded and froze when he suddenly heard what his brother had. "Armor. It sounds like armor. Like fighting."

"How far are we from Osgillicad-"

"Osgiliath," Peter glared. "We should be right around the corner from it, if what Gandalf said is true."

Edmund nodded. "And the trail isn't wrong. They came past here."

"So there must be a secret passage to the other side somewhere." Peter finished his brother's train of thought.

Edmund nodded and dismounted. He searched around the area, but found nothing. They ventured a little closer and stuck low to the ground. In front of them was a small plain, full of mud and trampled grass. Behind that were the remnants of a once grand city. "Is that Osgillicad?" Edmund wondered incredulously.

Peter rolled his eyes at his brother's stubbornness to _not_ learn the proper name for the place. "Yes."

"I thought it was a city."

"It _was_," Peter dully pointed out and earned a glare from his brother. It made him smirk. "It's occupied by orcs by the looks of things."

"How about the western bank?" Edmund was already looking across the wide waters, to the western side. It was quiet compared to the eastern one.

"I don't know. I assume not, since our friends were likely brought there."

"And you're certain it wasn't one of the mercenaries you saw?" Edmund turned to look him in the eye.

Peter sighed. He wasn't annoyed with his brother's questioning. More the fact that he couldn't properly remember what he had seen. "Almost."

Edmund deflated a little and refocused on the eastern bank. "Well there must be a passage somewhere."

"Where does the trail lead?"

Edmund swallowed convulsively and pointed straight forward. Towards the heart of noise.

"Right. Of course." Peter swallowed as well and dismounted Axis.

"What are you doing?"

"If Frodo was taken, we have to find him." He pulled the reins off his mount. "I'm not risking riding into orc-occupied territory when it's safer to crawl." He pulled the saddle off as well and tossed it aside.

With a sigh Edmund did the same. "You think they'll find their way home?"

Peter looked at his brother and suddenly saw a boy standing in front of him. Not the grown man he knew Edmund was. A frightened boy who needed words of comfort from his brother. He offered his best supporting smile and nodded. "They'll be fine," He smirked. "Do you know, some say that Rohan horses are smarter than men?"

Edmund giggled as he took the reins off Aril. She whinnied softly and nuzzled his hair with her nose. He smiled and allowed her to lip his dark locks carefully. It was something Phillip had often done when his Boy was upset or in need of a friend. It felt comforting.

Peter pushed their saddles into a bush and gave Axis a hard smack in the bum. The stallion reared back in offense and took off running in the direction they had come. Edmund gently pushed Aril in the same direction, but didn't have the heart to smack her. She followed the stallion willingly with only a quick glance back. For a moment Edmund wasn't sure she _wasn't_ a Talking Animal. He frowned as she vanished among the greens.

Peter clapped his shoulder and pulled him along. "I need a tracker."

Edmund nodded and returned his focus to ground. His hand rested on his sword – _well, Peter's sword_. They had left everything behind but a few rations and their weapons. Various knives, given to them by Théoden – Peter still had the knife from Galadriel – and their swords. Both boys had been given bows as well, for hunting. They jogged out of the cover of the trees and towards the city. Edmund did his best to follow the trail, but it intermixed with the footprints of a hundred orcs.

Only every ten yards or so, would he see a footprint that definitely did not belong to an orc. He followed them onto cobble stone where they turned to muddy marks on the grey rock. The sounds were deafening. Both boys now cared little about being heard, only about being seen. Though it was nearing late afternoon there was still light enough to see clearly by.

They knew they were dead should any orcs spot them. Just as one orc's voice echoed among the walls clearly, Edmund lost the trail. He followed it to a bend where it vanished. His brother noticed his confusion and hissed at him.

"What are you doing?"

Edmund waved him back into the shadows and searched around on the ground for another hobbit sized footprint. He couldn't find one in the immediate vicinity and hurried back to his brother. "Stay here. I've lost the trail, but it's too dangerous for both of us to walk around searching for it."

"I'm not leaving you alone." Peter hissed back.

"I know. Just stay behind me and always in the shadows." Edmund, bless him, knew he couldn't stop his brother from following. Peter reluctantly accepted and pulled out his bow instead of Rhindon. If he couldn't help Edmund search, he would watch his back. He notched an arrow and watched from the shadows. Whenever Edmund moved around a corner, Peter silently followed. He knew his brother would be the first one to be spotted, should any orcs pass by. He knew that and he hated it.

For once he wished he was the better tracker.

It was in the middle of this thought the unthinkable happened. Edmund had just rounded a corner, and Peter about to follow, when a loud bellow met his ears. "HUMAN!" Peter flinched, thinking he had been seen, but quickly realized with terror that he wasn't the one who'd been walking around in broad daylight.

"Edmund!" he cried and ran from his hiding place. Just as he rounded a corner, he came face to face with a huge orc. It stood almost a head taller than him and with a body mass three times heavier. Peter barely had time to flinch back and drop the bow for Rhindon. It lunged with a snarl and the two instantly engaged in combat.

It knocked him over just as a loud scream pierced the air. A scream Peter knew all too well. With his heart in his throat he dislodged the orc and spun, bringing the sword with him. He struck it across the abdomen and heard it wail in agony. He didn't stick around to see if it got back up. Just as he rounded the corner, his heart stopped.

There, in the middle of almost a half dozen orcs, was his brother. On the ground, trying to reach his sword. The orcs were trying to stomp on him while some settled for swinging at him with a creative array of weapons. Clubs, swords, spears, all aimed for his little brother.

With a guttural roar, Peter lunged into the melee. The only thought on his mind was to get his brother to safety. And sadly, in the heat of battle he failed to notice the club that swung at his head. With an explosion of pain, everything went dark.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Have I ever told you that I have a fondness for cliffhangers? See you tomorrow :D


	38. Chapter 38: The Grey City

**Disclaimer:** Read previously previous :)

**Author's Note:** I love that you're all jumping to the perfectly reasonable conclusion that Edmund will have a mental breakdown. But alas, this is tale of adaptation and perseverance. And Edmund is far too shy to have a momentary lapse of mental presence when there's a war to be fought. And with those words I know I've managed to confuse you even more - maybe even disappoint a little. Hopefully an badass-Edmund chapter will make up for that.

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><p>Chapter 38 – The Grey City<p>

Light was momentarily pushed aside and darkness invaded. The world swam before his eyes. His limbs felt numb. And through it all there was a loud cry. His brother's voice, calling his name. Peter swayed drunkenly on his feet and barely managed to dodge the second swing of the orc-club. He fell down and scrambled back until his body connected with a rough wall.

And suddenly his brother was there. Unseen by Peter, Edmund had lashed out the second he saw his brother fall and struck an orc across the knee. The distraction had been just enough for him to roll away from the beating going on, and grab his sword. He had cut through one orc to get to his brother and was standing in front of him. His legs spread and his sword out. He hunched down and waited for the orcs to make their move. For the first time in a very long time his hands were shaking. His fear built like water rising, threatening to spill over. Only the knowledge that he was his brother's last line of defense kept him in the present.

With a cross-eyed glance and a stupid chuckle all orcs attacked simultaneously. Edmund easily dodged one and sent it sailing into another. He brought up his sword and swung it, taking down two orcs with two very well places strikes. That left only two and a straggler, coming to aide his friends. Edmund shot out, catching one orc across the thigh, lightning fast. It howled in pain as its left leg buckled. Edmund sidestepped and swung his sword at the other orc's neck. He saw it duck just in time and didn't expect to nick it, but did. Instead of striking a lethal blow at its artery, he hit it over the top of the head. It was dead before it hit the ground.

The last straggler shuddered and let loose a loud bellow. Edmund cut it short by dodging a sloppy swipe of its sword and stabbing it through the neck, severing its vocal chords. He didn't waste time searching for others. They would be there soon enough after that cry.

He moved to his brother and hoisted him up with both hands under his armpits. "C'mon, you big dolt. I found the tunnel." He flinched when his own injuries made themselves known. His ribs were pure agony and he was bleeding from a wound on his shoulder. Also his knee had taken a sharp blow, it seemed. It was having trouble supporting him. The adrenalin had kept most of the pain at bay, but now it was returning with a vengeance. He pushed Peter against the wall and picked up Rhindon along with his own sword.

Peter swayed a little before he uncrossed his eyes and looked evenly at his brother. "Is tha' you, Ed?" His speech was slurred, which was by far a good sign.

"It's me. Try not to fall. Alright?" Edmund tried to catch his eye, but failed. He noticed one pupil looked a little larger than the other. "Pete- Peter! . . . How's your head?" He raised his voice and hoped it carried through the haze.

Peter clenched his jaw and swallowed. He shook his head and only just managed to turn before he spewed. Edmund sidestepped awkwardly and barely allowed his brother to vomit in peace before he was pulling them along again. He made very sure that no orcs followed them as they entered the tunnel. It was located under a small viaduct. Water had long since stopped flowing because a section of the irrigation-system had been smashed. The tunnel was very small and easily overlooked, which worked to their advantage. Edmund dragged his brother's arm over his shoulder and pushed off the wall with his other hand. He was limping, his knee screaming at him to stop.

With a few well annunciated curses and a lot of growling he managed to drag himself and his brother out of the tunnel. Edmund had a fleeting moment to fear that the entire tunnel might collapse and let the river in. Drown both boys without anyone the wiser. The last stretch was made difficult by boulders that had been placed in their path. Probably to make it difficult for _any_ to reach the western bank. "Bollocks. . ." Edmund hissed when he stumbled over a rock and twisted his knee further.

Peter giggled and remained utterly useless.

"Yeah, keep laughing. I'll leave your heavy arse here for the Gondorians to find."

He giggled again.

Edmund huffed and would have rolled his eyes had he had the energy. "Aslan, you're heavy! What have-" Grunt. "-you been-" Curse. "-eating?" Bleak sunlight his his face and he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Soldiers to the southern wall!" a voice close by shouted.

Edmund froze mid-step. He looked around, but couldn't see anyone. The voice sounded human though. That was a comfort. He cautiously stepped further into the western part of the city and kept his eyes open. Then suddenly he saw his first Gondorian soldier.

"HERE! Intruders!" A young man, barely older than his brother, dressed in sparkling steel from head to toe. He had long, black hair and blue eyes. He looked somewhat like Aragorn.

"No! Wait! No, no!" Edmund raised both hands the best he could for his brother. "We're not enemies." He carefully kneeled when the soldier drew a sword on them. "Please!"

The young man was quickly joined by other soldiers. One older, with grey hair. "Who are you? Speak!"

"My name is Edmund Pevensie. This is my brother." He widened his eyes pleadingly. "We're. . .we're lost. We don't know where we are!" was the best he could think of with so little notice. Peter didn't even bother to open his eyes when he giggled again.

The soldiers seemed to consider. The oldest one lowered his weapon. "Take them to Lord Faramir. He will decide what to do."

The soldiers hauled both Pevensie brothers ungracefully to their feet. Edmund groaned from the unexpected pressure on his leg and almost buckled, but a young man grabbed his arm and steadied him. "Be careful. My brother-"

Just then Peter vomited again. Edmund grimaced as the mess accidentally hit one of the soldiers. The soldier cursed and roughly pulled Peter to a stand.

"Sorry." Edmund muttered as he was shoved forward.

They were brought into a large group of soldiers. One of them was dressed like a ranger. The one with fair hair. Edmund swallowed nervously. This could very well be the man that had kidnapped Frodo. Now if only he had known what Frodo looked like. His line of thinking stopped when he spotted two children, cowering in a corner. He had a second the get angry about the fact that the soldiers allowed children to partake, before he realized they were both hobbits.

"Frodo? Frodo Baggins?" He called and drew the attention of both hobbits and Faramir.

The dark-haired hobbit looked up in surprise. Behind them, hiding in the shadows, Edmund saw another creature. Possibly the third party whose footprints he had spotted in the hills of Ithillien. "Who are _you_?" the hobbits asked in a slightly accusing voice.

Edmund was about to answer when Peter was pushed in behind him.

"Peter!" the black-haired one cried.

"What is this?" Edmund looked at Faramir when he spoke. "You know these men?"

Edmund swallowed, unsure of what to answer. "No. I've never met them before." He decided truth would work best. "My brother has, though."

Faramir seemed confused as to what he should make of the two new arrivals. "I was sent here by Gandalf the White." Edmund continued.

The soldiers all slowed to look at him. It was Faramir who first spoke. "You know Mithrandir?"

Edmund frowned. "Gandalf?"

"Yes." Faramir insisted.

Edmund swallowed with a nervous glance around the men. "Yes."

The news seemed to shock Faramir a great deal. All around them orcs were hurling rocks from the other side of the river and yet, all Faramir could do was stare at Edmund. "Is he here?"

"He should be arriving in Minas Tirith as we speak."

"My Lord, the orcs have crossed the river!" someone called.

But Faramir couldn't snap out of his surprise. He looked from Edmund to Frodo with wide eyes. "You know, don't you?" Edmund asked and stepped free of his 'caretaker'. "You know what Frodo carries?"

Faramir only swallowed, but to Edmund it was as good as a confession.

"Why haven't you helped him!" he barked with all the authority he could muster. It seemed to affect the ranger somewhat. "If you _know_ what he carries then why would you not do everything in your power to help him forward instead of keeping him bound?" He gestured angrily to the ropes that bound all three prisoners.

Faramir stuttered for how to answer.

Edmund decided to push just a little harder and see if he couldn't snap the Gondorian from his stupor. "Release them!"

Faramir flinched, but didn't move.

"My Lord, if you let them go your life is forfeit." the grey-haired solder said.

The one who'd held Edmund tried to put his hands on him again, but Edmund violently jerked free. "If you care what happens to this earth _at all_ you'll release them!" Edmund put as much righteous anger into his voice as he could.

"My Lord?" the grey-haired one pressed.

"Who is _he_?" Faramir asked instead, nodding to Peter.

Edmund glanced back at his brother and saw he was fairing a little better. "My brother Peter." He wasn't yet sure he wanted these men to know of their royal titles, or their business with the Fellowship. "And you?"

"I am Faramir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor." he said proudly.

Edmund wasn't impressed. The pride sounded fake, and he'd had bigger titles thrown at him. "Then you're in a perfect position to do the right thing." His words exuded faith. He hoped Faramir would seize them and rise to the occasion and not be brought down by the obvious misplaced sense of devotion to his father.

Behind the son of Denethor, Frodo and Sam awaited anxiously.

"Faramir?" Edmund asked. He softened his voice and hunched to make himself seem smaller. "Please." It was blatant manipulation, but every little bit helped and Edmund wasn't above trying to sway his captor to do the right thing.

A shadow fell over his face. His eyes dulled as some memory forced itself on him unbidden. Edmund saw it happening clear as day, and knew what the outcome would be. "No." Faramir looked up. "Tie them down with the other three. We take them to my father."

Edmund's face fell in disappointment and he knew Faramir saw and felt it. Just as the soldier from before reached out again, he sidestepped and brought his elbow up. It connected with his cheekbone with a sickening crunch. Edmund swirled and reclaimed the sword that had been taken. In a lightning quick movement he had the tip of it pointed at Faramir's neck.

"Release my brother." he commanded in his very best imitation of General Oreius' voice. But nothing happened so a tried a bit more aggressively. "If you wish your commander to survive I strongly suggest you _release my brother_." he ordered the few soldiers around them. Still nothing happened and Edmund inched a little closer and pressed the point of the sword into Faramir's jugular. With a savage sneer, he drew blood. "_Now_."

Faramir gave a slight nod, though he clearly didn't want to.

"It seems to me you all have a city to protect." Edmund addressed the men. He forced Faramir back. "Turn around and leave!" He was just barely holding himself together. His knee was shooting white-hot jolts of pain through his leg and his ribs were making themselves known. Pain pulsed through him and yet his hands were still. Nothing showed on his face. He vaguely heard the men leaving after Faramir nodded again. "Peter?"

"'M 'ere."

"Come over where I can see you." Edmund had slipped completely into King-mode. His brother followed the order without question. It was a delicate game of give and receive when the two Narnian kings ever so rarely gave each other direct orders. Peter knew better than to go against one, rare as they were, and especially in his impaired mental state. He moved over next to Sam and sagged against the wall.

To the hobbit he offered a lofty grin. "Hi, Sam."

The hobbit smiled a bit awkwardly and shuffled closer to Frodo. "'Ello, yer Majesty."

"Peter please," Peter waved a hand exaggeratedly. "I thought we were friends, Sam." He sounded genuinely hurt by the notion that they weren't.

Sam cleared his throat and smiled again. "Well, yes. But, if you don't mind me askin', what're you doing here?"

"Freeing you." Edmund answered for his brother. "Sit down, my Lord." He angled the sword to allow Faramir a seat next to his brother. "You can relax. I don't intend to kill you."

"Then I hope you are prepared to flee for your life, for it is already forfeit."

Edmund tried to ignore the ramifications of what he had just done and pulled out his secret dagger. The one that always hid in his boot, the one the soldiers hadn't taken. As he was cutting Frodo free he noticed Faramir's eyes shift to a spot on the wall behind him. He knew he was signaling his men. They seemed far too loyal to just abandon their future Steward. "What about him?" Edmund asked Frodo in regards to the strange creature tied up next to them.

Frodo nodded meekly and rubbed his sore wrists.

"Frodo, I'd like to pres'nn ma'brother." Peter slurred with a smile.

Edmund nodded quickly to the hobbit whilst he freed the third companion. "What's your name?" he asked it.

"This is Sméagol." Frodo answered for it.

"Sméagol." Edmund nodded politely. He had seen worse and the gangly figure didn't scare him as much as it should have.

"What will you do now?" Faramir asked.

Edmund could see he was putting up a brave front and felt a sting of pity. "I'll release the good sirs on their way and take my brother to Minas Tirith."

"If you ever step foot inside the city walls my men will kill you." Faramir said in a slightly breathless voice. "The hobbits will never make it out of Osgiliath."

Edmund helped Sam to his feet and next his brother. Peter was pushed carefully against the wall. "All I ask is that my brother not be judged for my actions. As you can see he's sustained quite a bump to the head." Faramir looked at Peter. "He would never agree with this had he been lucid enough to protest."

Faramir looked back at Edmund.

"Promise me."

The son of Denethor nodded and gave his promise. Why these two interested him so, he couldn't say.

Edmund returned it and handed the children-sized weapons back to the hobbits. "I would have loved to get to know you, Frodo Baggins." he said with a smile.

Frodo nodded, but didn't return it. "Likewise."

"Any friend of Queen Susan's is a friend of ours." Sam said grandly.

Edmund smirked, but whirled around when a shout interrupted them. "Drop your weapons!" a guard yelled.

"Go! Hurry!" hr ordered, but the hobbits didn't comply. Suddenly there was a shriek the likes of which Edmund had only ever heard once. Only once in his life had he been so unfortunate as to be lost in the desert south of Calormene. Only once had he ever seen a glimpse of the salamanders that lived under the scorching sun. Their cries had haunted the steps of him and his men for their entire stay there. They had been lost, with no hope of ever reaching sanctuary, after ruffling with southern slave traders. Those were the cries he now heard. And their very sound broke the dam that contained the memories of that dreaded trip.

He froze and half expected a toxic creature with sparkling scales to come lumbering around the corner. Instead the men looked up and cried in horror. "NAZGUL!"

Edmund followed their gazes and saw a dragon, soaring on air. He looked again and noticed a man perched on top of it. "What in Narnia. . ." His voice was drowned out when the dragon shrieked again and hovered closer to where they were squatting. Everyone dropped with their hands over their ears when the shriek sounded.

"Mr. Frodo!"

He heard Sam shout and turned just in time to see Frodo stumbling up the steps of a ruined tower. Something seized the very air in his lungs and he ran after the two hobbits. But without looking around to see if he was followed, he never saw the Gondorian soldier that appeared behind him.

"Ed!" His brother's shout caught him off guard. He only managed to turn in time to see the soldier be tackled by his concussed brother before another appeared and attacked him.

"Peter, get back!" He dodged the frantic flourish of a sword. The young soldier drove him closer and closer to where Frodo was perched. It almost looked like the little hobbit was waiting for the Nazgul to sweep down and rip his head off. Edmund stumbled when he saw Frodo pull out The Ring and hold it up for the creature on the Nazgul's back. "No, Frodo. Don't!" he shouted. He lunged up the stairs, but was taken down by the soldier.

As his chin hit the unyielding cobblestone, he saw Sam tackle Frodo to the ground. The brief fight that ensued between the two hobbits was lost on him as he jerked his arm free and punched the soldier off. He cried out when a new soldier came up and stepped down on his knee. He curled together in a ball to protect the damaged limb. More soldiers arrived and forcefully pulled him back towards Faramir.

"Get the hobbits!" he heard them shout. He looked around frantically to see them making a run for it. Only a couple of soldiers chased after when orcs suddenly descended upon the encampment.

"Sire, the hobbits?"

Looking around frantically at the orcs swarming around them, Faramir made a wise decision. "Leave them!" he called to his men. "Retreat!" he called out. Apparently the son of Denethor was smart enough to know when he was outnumbered.

Through the haze of pain, Edmund saw his brother being carried off along with the men. He felt two strong arms reach down and heave him to his feet. He would have smiled through the pain if he could. It seemed that Faramir was not lost after all. Favoring his men over a ring. Everything was a haze of aches after that. He felt himself be seated on a horse behind another. The horse took off in a mad dash towards the walls of Minas Tirith, but the orcs didn't take up pursuit.

As they reached the walls of the white city, a few on horseback, but most on foot, he saw a vision of a man in white. "Son of Denethor!" a voice roared out. "What is the meaning of this!"

He felt himself fall to the ground. A body was thrown down next to him. It groaned and Edmund recognized the body as Peter. All he felt then was the throbbing of his knee and the pain of his bruised ribs.

"King Edmund!" a frightened voice called.

Edmund pried his eyes open and stared into a worried face, belonging to Pippin. He smiled before the world slid out of focus and everything went dark.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Two knock-out cliffhangers in two chapters. But I do belive the next one ends a little less...abruptly. And some of you might even now wonder why Faramir didn't just kill the brothers and be done with it. Ahh, but thus is the nature of man's curiosity.


	39. Chapter 39: The White City

**Disclaimer:** I have never, nor do I- or ever will- own the Chronicles of Narnia in all their glory. Furthermore I also do not own the Lord Of The Rings trilogy.

**Author's Note:** There is no excuse for my tardiness- well there is, but excuses are boring. I can only promise that there will be no further obstructions in the uploading/completion of this story, seeing as all finals are now over and the summer has officially begun for me :) In the hopes you will forgive my procrastinating manner I give you chapters 39 and 40:

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><p>Chapter 39 – The White City<p>

Gandalf kneeled before the two youths next to Pippin. The last of the royal company had stopped in awe to stare at the wizard. Only a few of them, those closest to Faramir, had heard of his arrival. But the coming of Gandalf the White didn't bring with it a sense of anticipation as the soldiers had hoped. Instead, fifty trained men found themselves stared down by a very agitated, very _powerful_ magician.

"What is the meaning of this!" Gandalf roared into the crowd.

Faramir bravely stumbled to the edge of the returned group where Peter and Edmund lay. "They tried to kill me. They attacked Osgiliath!" he forced out in a slightly indignant rush.

Gandalf scoffed and stood to face Faramir. "I find that _very_ hard to believe!"

"It is true, my Lord." one of the older soldiers spoke up. "The wound on Lord Faramir's neck was caused by the dark-haired one."

Gandalf growled once for good measure, and faced Faramir and his men head on. "If that is the case, I'm sure he had reason." Gandalf looked at the men closest to him, one after the other. "Did you attack him, Faramir?" His voice wasn't that of the wise, old tutor both sons of Denethor had once known. But rather the voice of a ruler. Fearsome and to be respected. Even Pippin cowered a little.

"He tried to take what rightfully belongs to my father."

"The Ring?"

Faramir's face fell in embarrassment.

"Answer me, Faramir!"

"Yes." he meekly responded.

Gandalf's face both hardened and softened. "Then you are a _fool_." All the gathered men flinched back slightly. "To think you or your father could ever harness the power The Ring possesses shows how little you know of his limitations."

"Gandalf," Pippin breathed.

The tall man quickly kneeled in front of the brothers and ran his hand over Edmund's forehead. "Get these boys to the castle at once!"

At first no one moved, but when Gandalf rose and looked at Faramir with almost palpable fury, the youngest son of Denethor quickly obeyed. "Get horses." he called. Two war horses that had recently been ridden from Osgiliath were brought before him.

"You take Peter." Gandalf instructed and very gently raised Edmund from the ground himself. He had more strength than a man his age should have had. He picked up Edmund like a father would his infant son and placed him in front of him on the horse. It was enough to silence the last remnants of protest among the men. "Follow me and _do not_ go to your father just yet." The wizard mounted with Edmund shivering in front of him. The boy was trembling as he tried not to cry out in agony. "Pippin, follow us to the castle. Under no circumstance will you go back to the Steward. Say nothing about Edmund and Peter. Is that understood?"

Pippin nodded hastily and ran after the two horses when they set off in a gallop. He was hopelessly outmatched, but refused to slow his pace even a little.

The brothers were brought to a healing ward in the castle. Lord Denethor still sat on his throne, indifferent to the loss of Osgiliath or his youngest son's return. Gandalf had a good mind to keep him ignorant just a little while longer. If the Steward learned what Edmund had done or who both boys were, he would have them killed. And possibly his own son as well, for allowing it to happen.

The brothers were settled in a room facing west. It was on the shadowy side of the castle, but offered a good deal of light through large, open windows. White curtains fluttered in the fresh winds. Gandalf only lingered a few moments after the healers arrived to attend the kings. He ordered Faramir to stay with them and not to see his father. When a breathless Pippin arrived, he quickly pulled him aside.

"We must light the beacons and send word to Rohan." he whispered as he made his way out a side entrance that led to the tower. Pippin followed in a quick pace. They stopped at the base of a path where a steep, rocky hill rose before them. "You must see to this." He kneeled and placed a hand on Pippin's shoulder.

The hobbit swallowed nervously and looked up. "You sure you want _me_ for this?"

The fear on his face made a soft smile soften Gandalf's. "I would trust none other." he said sincerely. It seemed to brighten the halfling's spirits. The young hobbit straightened his back and smiled. Gandalf clapped his shoulder. "This is of utmost importance. Denethor refuses to see reason and has in doing so doomed this city of his. I fear he would rather see it burn that restored to the rightful ruler."

"Aragorn," Pippin said softly. His smile widened.

"Yes, Master Peregrin. If your love for Aragorn is as strong as you say, let it steel you." Gandalf shook the hobbit. "You _must_ light the beacon."

Pippin took a deep breath. The amount of trust the old wizard was instilling in him was enough to make him a little breathless. "I won't let you down." he promised and turned to face the rock wall.

"I know, dear boy." Gandalf watched proudly as Pippin began to climb up the wall. "When you light the tower, go to the healers and find our Kings."

"Will _doo_, Gandalf." Pippin promised with his mouth pointed into the rock face.

Gandalf smiled at the three feet the hobbit had already managed to climb and left, barely the height of a grown man. He turned after only a moment. He still had Faramir to deal with. Something told the old wizard that the boy already knew of his brother's death. Gandalf aimed to find out exactly _how_ much he knew.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I know some of you are hoping to read the moment when Faramir reaalizes who the boys really are, but mind you that may be a long time coming.

Also: To those who've read The Last Guardians. I have officially begun writing the sequel - at capter 8 - but it's still only in its beginning stages. Its going to be a long one like its predecessor.


	40. Chapter 40: The Call of Fire

**Disclaimer:** Oh for Pete's sake. Just go back and read the other thirty nine...

**AN:** No intro needed...

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><p>Chapter 40 – The Call of Fire<p>

"The call has been made! The beacons are lit!" Aragorn was shouting as he sprinted into the main hall. "The beacons of Minas Tirith are lit!" He slid to a stop. "Gondor calls for aid," He was breathless by the time he reached the king.

Susan and Lucy were sitting at a table with Eowyn to the side, calmly eating a bit of supper. Lucy was admiring a new set of daggers, Eowyn had gifted her with. Susan looked worriedly at Théoden King when Aragorn stumbled into the hall. She wasn't sure what his reaction would be, but was delighted when the king only thought on it a moment before he gave his reply.

"And Rohan will answer."

The members of the Fellowship smiled and drew relieved sighs, though Susan's didn't quite reach her eyes. Lucy smiled prettily because she knew their brothers were in Gondor. The rest of the Fellowship because it meant the White City would now hopefully get the aid it needed.

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><p><strong>10 minutes earlier…<strong>

King Théoden leaned in with a smile when his nephew approached his throne. "Eomer," he greeted gladly.

Eomer took a seat on the perch next to his uncle. "My Lord. You sent for me?"

Théoden nodded and glanced stealthily over at the two Narnian queens, "What are your thoughts on the Queens?"

Eomer followed his uncle's eyes. "I know not Queen Lucy, but Queen Susan is very able with a bow in her hands."

The king nodded. "How was she in battle?"

Eomer studied the queen deeply. "She handled herself admirably. She was like a simblemüne blossom in the midst of a pool of mud."

The king nodded again and grinned at his nephew's smitten voice. He leaned his chin on his knuckles. "The men are restless. They fear the war is not over. That it will reach us from beyond the White Mountains."

Eomer nodded, but remained silent. His gaze was turned to the ground.

"What are your thoughts on this?" Théoden looked to his nephew curiously.

Eomer almost blushed, being put on the spot like that. It was a long time since his uncle had asked his advice. Even longer since the two had shared any kind of conversation at all. "I believe Lord Aragorn might be right in his assumptions."

"You say the war will find us." Théoden deduced sadly.

Eomer nodded. "I've seen what they are capable of, Uncle. For months the savages and the orcs ravished Rohan as if strolling through their own keep," He met the eyes of his king. "Nothing but brute force will hold them back."

Théoden looked into the eyes of his nephew. The boy he had once been. The child that had been so horribly neglected. "Should I call for war, would you follow me?"

Eomer nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

"And. . ." Théoden glanced away quickly. "Should I give Queen Susan an éored of her own, would you respect my decision?"

Eomer hesitated then. He wasn't sure the queen was capable of leading an army into battle. He had no doubt she was a great tactical mind among lesser men, but the ability to inspire soldiers to fight seemed nearly impossible for the gentle queen to accomplish. "Perhaps Gamling would be better suited. . .?"

"Yes, yes," Théoden waved him down. "I do not ask lightly, my Son." He didn't notice Eomer's surprise at the title. "I ask because, as it stands, we are hopelessly unprepared. Gamling has his own men, as do you." The king sat back and sighed. "I would not give the command of our soldiers to women unless I felt the situation greatly warranted it. And the Queen does have. . .a certain _strength_, does she not?"

Eomer nodded. "I agree, but I fear the Queen would decline if given the offer. She is an archer, My Lord. That is where her strength lies. Not as a commander." The two men locked gazes. "She knows where herself vety well, it would seem."

Théoden nodded sagely. "I put great value in your council, Eomer, but I fear it may be out of our hands entirely." He exhaled decisively. "I will ask and if she accepts I will praise Eru and count my blessings."

Eomer nodded, not entirely convinced she would accept. He still felt a little sliver of insecurity over once again following the word of his king. The faith that had been broken by Saruman and Grima was not so easily restored, it seemed.

As they sat in their own thoughts, Aragorn burst into the hall. He was shouting about the beacons. The beacons had been lit, to the surprise of many. Théoden rose from his seat and stared at the ranger. "Gondor calls for aid." Aragorn breathed.

Théoden nodded minutely. "And Rohan will answer." It was as if a great sigh echoed through the hall. The king would stand by his obligations. He would persevere in the face of extreme adversity. Eomer smiled slightly. "Join me, Eomer." The king reached a hand down for his nephew and pulled him along. "My Queens," he greeted Susan and Lucy. "Might we have a word in private?"

They two women looked at each other and Eomer had the feeling that an entire conversation was held in the span of seconds. "Of course." Susan answered graciously. The two queens followed Théoden and Eomer to a private sitting room.

The king gestured for all to find a place. They did so with all the poise he would have expected. Susan and Lucy both waited calmly. If they harbored any confusion at all as to why they were called upon, they did not show it. He cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably. "The reason I ask you here," He glanced at Eomer who was standing quietly in the corner of the room. "The reason I ask you here is because I have a request to make of you."

Susan immediately became apprehensive. She had a sneaking suspicion the king was about to ask them to stay behind. She ground her jaw. He was in for the fight of his life, if that was his purpose. Not only from herself, but from Lucy as well.

"I have more men than I could ever hope for. Even after the battle of Helms Deep, they have rallied behind me."

Susan's expression softened a little.

"I fear I am undeserving of their loyalty. Not only this, but I also fear I will be unable to lead all of them to war." His green eyes stared calmly at Susan. Lucy was, for the moment, ignored.

"What do you ask of _me_?" Susan asked with a glance at her sister.

The king inhaled deeply and shared a quick look with his nephew. "I would ask for your service in leading an éored into war."

Susan didn't react at first. She wasn't quite sure she had heard correctly. Lucy sucked in a quick breath, when she realized what the king was asking her sister. "You want _me_. . .to lead _your_ army?"

"Under my command. I would make you general of your own men." The king looked a little uncomfortable.

Susan wasn't surprised. Rohan was very male-governed and she was surprised the king was even considering her involvement to such an extent.

"Have you ever. . ." Eomer stepped forward insecurely. "Have you lead an army before?"

Susan frowned. "Only once." She turned back to the king and noticed their surprised expressions. "In all honesty, my sister might be the wiser choice. She has led legions of her own into battle several times. She is far better with a sword than I."

The king looked curiously at Lucy. The young queen softened her expression when she realized why the king was even asking them in the first place. She leaned forward and grasped his hand gently. "We're both very capable of conducting war." She smiled at him sweetly, which seemed completely at odds with her statement. "But I think there's another reason for you asking us to do so?" She arched a brow and looked deeply into his eyes. She wondered what his son's eyes had looked like.

Théoden looked down in embarrassment. "I'm afraid you're right. I ask because we are too few to lead the army. Especially with the men joining us in Dunharrow."

Lucy nodded and pulled back. She shared a look with her sister. "Your reasons for asking are not as hidden as you think, Théoden King." Susan said kindly. "If my help is needed, I will offer it." The king looked up in surprise.

He was afraid he had offended the queens somehow, but they seemed gracious as ever. "So you accept?"

Susan looked down in thought. Accepting meant shifting her allegiance from Aragorn to Théoden. Though she had gained more respect for the king, she was still unsure whether it was the right decision. She knew her sister would gladly take her place if she asked. But she wasn't sure she could condone Lucy riding to war in a world not their own. She looked up at her sister. With a single glance she knew Lucy felt her doubts as clearly as were they her own.

"I'll follow your decision, Susan." she said softly.

"I'll have to speak with Aragorn of this." Susan said finally. "But my answer is yes."

The king smiled in relief. He rose to his feet as did the queens. "Thank you." He grasped her hands warmly and shook them. "Thank you."

Susan smiled and allowed the king to walk off with a hand on Eomer's shoulder. She turned back to her sister. "Could you get Aragorn for me?"

Lucy nodded and took off without another word.

The eldest Pevensie daughter sighed and fell into her seat. She was far from sure in her decision, but felt the king was sincere in his request. If he needed her, who was she to decline? Aragorn knocked softly and entered. "Your sister said you wished to see me."

Susan smiled and suddenly felt a little warmer. Her smile melted when Aragorn took a seat next to her. "Théoden just asked me to lead an éored into battle."

Aragorn smiled in complete trust. He wasn't the least bit worried that Susan was incapable of completing the task. But she seemed insecure. "He chose wisely." He grasped her hands and leaned forward.

Susan smiled and allowed his trust to convince her. "I asked you here because following him means breaking a promise." She looked up sadly.

But Aragorn just smiled. "Frodo will understand."

"And you?"

He almost grinned. "I have more faith in you than in any man by my side." He lovingly placed a hand on her cheek. "Follow your heart, Susan. Go where it takes you and worry not of your ability to lead these men."

She smiled, but still looked a little insecure.

"Did you not wonder why the Fellowship accepted you so easily?" he asked.

She looked up with a question in her eyes.

Aragorn smiled. "Your very presence inspires honor, Queen Susan. Be it with a bow in your hand or an army at your back."

Her smile widened and became a little warmer. "What did I do to gain such good friends?"

Aragorn chuckled. "I have often wondered if it was mere chance that brought you to Rivendell, but the longer I know you, the less I think so. I believe with all my heart that your purpose here is greater than any of us can imagine."

They held each other's eyes for a few moments longer. Both of them smiling. Eventually Susan looked away, and Aragorn pulled them to their feet. "If you are to lead an army, there are many preparations to be made." He pulled her along. "Come. First we need to find you a suit of armor."

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><p>In the great hall many men and women were waiting. Among them was Lucy, Eowyn, Gamling, Legolas, Gimli, Théoden and a few of the king's men. "Behold your general!"<p>

Susan stopped in surprise. The soldiers gathered, all offered her quick bows. She didn't recognize any of them and guessed they were some of the new arrivals. She smiled graciouslywhen she regained her presence of mind, and felt heartened when they smiled back. Lucy hopped over with a bright smile. "Susan, I want you to meet some friends of mine." Both she and Aragorn were pulled over to meet a broad Rohan man with sad eyes. "This is Esodhal and his son Essir. They helped me and Edmund when we first got here." _Here_, of course referring to Middle-Earth. She turned back to Susan with a smile. "They're archers."

Susan smiled and curtsied. Esodhal reached out a hand and grasped hers. "Queen Lucy told me this is the proper greeting of your home."

Susan smiled and blushed. "Actually we have two," She didn't see her sister smirk when she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"General." a deep, soothing voice interrupted. Legolas had arrived with his ever-present grin firmly in place. "Your armor awaits." He lavishly swung out his arm.

Susan giggled and followed with Lucy in her wake. Legolas led them to a bedroom along with Eowyn and Morwen. Both women smiled as the queens entered. Susan instantly felt a stab of guilt, but Eowyn noticed and stepped forward. "Fear not, Susan." Her smile was genuine as she placed a hand on Susan's cheek. "He chose wisely."

Susan was having a hard time accepting that none of the Rohan women or knights felt any kind of slight towards the king for his decision. She wasn't quite sure all the men would even listen to her in the heat of the moment. "I'm afraid all our armor is fitted for men." Eowyn said apologetically.

Susan smiled and waved her off. "I'm sure it will do quite nicely."

Lucy helped the two women outfit her sister. "You're going to be weighted down so you'll probably use your thighs much more than you're used to." Lucy explained conversationally as she pulled out a chainmail. "They'll kill you in the long run if you don't remember to relax sometimes."

"I _have_ done this before," Susan said, smiling.

Lucy blushed. "Sorry."

Understanding her sister's concern, Susan shook her head. "It's alright. Tell me more."

Lucy seemed relieved for reasons she wasn't completely ignorant to. "We'll fit you in Hose, but I'll have to do something about your dress to do it." Lucy looked at her sister with sad concentration.

"It's alright. Rip it up the front and back. It'll make it easier for me to move,"

"Are you sure?" Lucy seemed sad about destroying such a pretty dress even if it was just the same hiking suit Susan had worn for almost a month.

"Positive." She shared another secret smile with her sister as Lucy pulled out a dagger from the folds of her skirt. She deftly cut two, long slits in the front and back of Susan's dress.

"Now, you'll be properly fitted for this when we reach Dunharrow, but this is just to see if anything needs replacing." Lucy continued in a professional voice. "You'll need tights so you don't show your legs while we're here- Oh! And I have something for you." She grinned and pulled something out of a large wooden chest. It was a small glass vial, hung from a chain.

"And what's this?" Susan accepted it with a smile.

She deftly pulled out her cordial and plucked out the stopper.

With a frown, Susan realized what her sister was doing and pulled back. "Oh no, Lucy. I can't take your cordial. There's so little left." Barely two drops lingered stubbornly at the bottom.

"Yes you can." Lucy nodded. "A few drops," She took the vial from her sister. "And I want you to have one," She looked up with the terribly familiar expression of stubbornness. "Just in case." She tipped the diamond bottle and allowed for two drops to slide into the glass vial. "It's thick glass and won't break if you keep it under your breastplate." She put the stopper back on the cordial and handed her sister the vial.

Eowyn and Morwen looked on curiously. Eowyn with a slight smile.

"I can't accept this," Susan said, but was interrupted.

"You _can_ and you _will_." Lucy pushed the vial into her sister's hands with a decisive expression. "You'll be fitted with a bow as well as a sword. The sword will be fitted to strap across your back. That should make it easier for you to draw since you're not used to drawing it from your hip." She looked at Eowyn for conformation.

"Not as much as you." Susan said. "_You_ should be doing this." She allowed the administrations patiently.

Lucy smiled and kissed her sister's cheek. "No."

Susan was surprised when that one word brought her a sense of calm. No more was needed. "We'll follow you to Dunharrow along with the men." Eowyn said. "It's tradition." She smiled. A brass mirror was unveiled so Susan could look at her reflection. The suit of a warrior. She felt stronger already. And not as hindered as she had feared. The armor was heavier than she was used to, but not uncomfortable. She was fitted with a chainmail hauberk, breastplate, pauldrons, rerebraces, vambraces, fauld and tassets, cuisses, kneebraces and greaves. The fauld almost looked too fitted to have been made for a man. It hugged her hips and waist as if it had been made for her.

"Is all this really necessary?" she asked. Despite the surprising lightness of the armor, she still felt like a walking tin can. "I've ridden into war before with nothing but chainmail and kneeguards."

"Oh," Lucy smiled. "I forgot the steel tipped boots." A set of black riding boots were presented. "Try them so we can see if they fit." She waved her sister to sit down so she could help. They slid on without trouble. Lucy studied them intently. "How do they feel?"

"A bit large," She smiled at her sister and received one in return.

"The helmet and gorget fit together." Eowyn said. "It's an older style, but it offers better protection from arrows." She smiled, but Susan waved her off.

"I won't be able to see a thing with that on."

"Susan, you need a helmet!" Lucy exclaimed.

"If I'm not used to wearing one it'll only hinder me." she defended. She had no idea if that was true, but it seemed logical. Also, she wasn't completely unaware of warfare or how important it was to be able to see properly. It was different for her brothers or sister. They had all been taught how to fight in full armor, and could do so with the grace of a ballet dancer. For Susan it would only make her clumsy and awkward. "I'm not really sure about the pauldrons either. They'll make it next to impossible to handle my bow properly."

Lucy studied her silently for a moment. "Alright." She reached up and removed the pauldrons.

Susan stood and tried moving to test the flexibility of her new armor. With the shoulder guard off she could easily reach up and behind her head. It felt better.

"Here, strap your bow and sword on. Try to draw it and see how it feels." Lucy slid her sister's new bow over her shoulder along with a slim sword. The sword, as well as the fauld, almost felt made for her. Both of them light and designed for movement.

"Are you sure this was made for a man?" she asked Eowyn.

The young woman saddened. "It belonged to Théodred when he was younger."

"Oh," Both queens stilled and saddened a little. "I'm sorry." Susan said.

Eowyn tried to force a smile. "Don't be. You did not know." The lady in waiting excused herself and left the room. Morwen looked torn between following her friend and staying to help fit Susan for war. Susan nodded and excused her. The middle-aged lady left the two queens alone.

With a sad expression the queens stared at each other. "Let's hope this brings me more luck than it did Théodred." Susan mumbled as she fixed the last laces.

Outside a cool wind blew as if nothing could stop it. Across plains and through deep canyons. across rivers and through tall grass. All the way over the White Mountains 'till it heated and reached a friend who was, at that moment, overlooking the Pelennor Fields.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> A tender moment between Susan and Aragorn there. Hope it wasn't too OOC with all the Middle-Earth characters. If so, let me know, and especially if you have suggestions on how to write them more into character. I live to serve :)


	41. Chapter 41: A Moment

**Disclaimer:** (Standardized-I-own-nothing-but-my-own-bullship-copy-of-a-masterpiece-notice!)

**Author's Note:** Writing the last chapters of the story as furiously as I can, but right now it looks as though there may be a prolonged waiting period of a month when I run out of backlogs. :( So sorry, but I don't wanna post shit and I have a lot of traveling during July. :)

Oh also, the war against Calormen that's mentioned in this chapter is NOT the one from Horse and His Boy. It's another one of my own inventions *smiles pretty and curtsies* _That_ story is being written as well and is shaping up to be a real doozie. That story is coincidentally the sequel to The Last Guardians. Would it be presumptuous to claim I just heard some of you squealing in delight?

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><p>Chapter 41 – A Moment<p>

Days had passed since his arrival.

Gandalf was overlooking the Great Plains with a pensive expression. His eyes weren't fixed on the east as others' might have been. No, _his_ eyes were turned to the north. The beacons were still burning brightly. He felt in his heart that Théoden would honor the call, but felt very little relief with that knowledge. It wouldn't be enough to stop Sauron's forces. When all the orcs of Mordor, along with assassins from the east and pirates from the south, amassed there would be very little that could stop them.

He knew of only one other army that could break Sauron's forces like rock broke water. But he knew Aragorn had yet to even consider that possibility for himself. He prayed that the sudden burst of hope would not be shattered when help arrived and realized that there was nothing they could do.

He just came from a meeting with Denethor and Faramir. The Steward had ordered his son back to Osgiliath with an impossible mission. To reclaim the city they lost. His only remaining son and he would so callously put him in harm's way. A hopeless attempt to regain some of the honor he perceived lost. And worst of all was that Faramir had obeyed without so much as a flinch.

The wizard was happy that the Narnian kings hadn't heard of this mission or they would surely have joined. Pippin as well. He turned back to the part of the castle where he knew the kings to be. Praises to Eru, Aslan, or whatever His name, that the kings had yet to learn of Denethor's decision.

* * *

><p><strong>Inside the healer's ward…<strong>

Edmund stretched and frowned when a rib made itself known. Pain was still present, but not nearly as bad as when he first arrived. His knee would be bothering him for weeks, he was sure, but at least he could breathe freely again. For three days he and Peter had been locked up in the medical ward, and ordered by Gandalf to remain. The wizard was so scared they would be seen by someone he didn't trust. Edmund had asked to see his brother, knowing how confused Peter would be when he finally awoke. Pippin had arrived and joined them. Since then Edmund had been moved into the same room and pampered by young women, all studying their version of medicine.

Currently Peter was stretched out on a bed, looking awfully pale. Edmund's expression softened. He took a seat on the bed and pushed a lock of hair out of his brother's eye. He was breathing calmly and turned his head towards Edmund at the touch.

"He'll be fine, king Edmund." Pippin said empathetically. The wee hobbit hopped onto a chair by the door.

Edmund ignored the nagging doubt and turned the conversation. "I heard you're a guard?" He looked at the hobbit.

Pippin smiled sadly. "I'm going to get fitted for armor in a few _moo_ments. Lord Denethor asked me to report to the thr_oo_ne room when I had."

Edmund nodded. He would never have offered his services to someone like Denethor. After hearing the way his subjects spoke of him, after hearing of the fear his own son felt towards him. He hoped Pippin would realize it soon. When he did, Ed swore he would do anything to help the dear hobbit out of his own mess.

"He sent Faramir back to Osgiliath." Pippin said after a moment of silence.

Edmund turned sharply towards him. "What? When?"

"Just now," Pippin straightened. "He's in the stables getting ready."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" He was already out of his seat.

"I just did." Pippin hopelessly defended. Edmund was out the door before the hobbit could say anything else.

The room fell into silence with Pippin sitting awkwardly atop the far too tall chair, slapping his knees occasionally. Then, with a quick knock, the door opened. "Master Peregrin?" a young girl asked. She was one of the apprentices. "They're ready for you." She smiled and left.

Pippin looked helplessly from Peter to the hall. He couldn't leave Peter. "Miss?" He stopped the girl before she could disappear. "Would you watch over him for me?"

The girl glanced in the opposite direction and back at Pippin, much like _he_ had just done with Peter. Finally she nodded and entered the room. She took the seat by the door and the little hobbit didn't waste a second before he ran for the armory.

* * *

><p>Edmund exited the castle and very nearly tackled Gandalf. "Why didn't you tell me Faramir was sent back there!" He was livid.<p>

Gandalf spent only a second to look over the boy before he relaxed. "Because you would have followed him." He continued in the direction he had been heading, which was right back into the healing ward.

"And why shouldn't I?" Edmund squared off. "I've been there before, I know the battleground and despite Faramir's poor judgment he needs someone to protect him. If he dies there'll be no one to lead the army!"

"He will _not_ die, Edmund, I promise you," Gandalf paused his long stride and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Faramir has very loyal men at his command. Their love for his brother did not die when he did. It transferred to Faramir."

"_Where_ are they?"

The wizard sighed. "They've already left, I'm afraid."

Edmund sagged. He didn't doubt Gandalf's word and accepted quite begrudgingly that there was nothing to be done. The wizard offered a compassionate smile and tapped his shoulder before he started walking again.

"He _will_ return." he said calmly with his eyes in front of him.

"How do you know?" Edmund let his eyes drift outside when they passed a window.

"Call it a feeling." Gandalf turned him about and entered the wing which held Edmund's healing brother. He reached out to steady the young man when he wobbled, taking a corner. He had seen the young king limping when they first arrived. "Have I told you how your sister managed to track Eomer before the battle of Helms Deep?"

Edmund sighed and allowed himself to be pulled back into the room from whence he'd just escaped. "No. I haven't really heard _any_thing about her travels beyond the prophecy."

Gandalf stiffened, but only did so a few seconds. If the dark-haired king noticed he didn't let on. "Yes. Well our lovely Queen was riding atop the Maera Nimzülae. . ."

As he delved into the tale he guided them both back to Peter's room where the rest of his sister's adventures were divulged. All the ones Gandalf knew about, anyhow. He told Edmund about the council meeting in Rivendell. He told him about the long journey through Moria. When he told of the meeting with the Balrog, Edmund unconsciously moved closer to his brother. As Gandalf reached the point of the siblings' convergence, he sighed and leaned back in the chair.

"May I confess one thing to you, King Edmund?"

The young man nodded. His hand had subconsciously sought out his sleeping brother's.

"I believe Susan's purpose here outshines all other destinies. You see, our lives are woven together. Some threads are tangled together in inexplicable ways whilst others never cross," He leaned forward. "I believe Susan has a much nobler purpose than to simply fight in a war."

"You make it sound like an everyday occurrence," Edmund smirked. He knew what Susan was capable of. He even knew that she was far more capable than she imagined. He didn't disagree with any particular point. But wasn't sure he shared Gandalf's belief that his sister was the ascended being he was making her out to be. She had flaws as did they all. Edmund was undoubtedly the most capable at identifying character flaws and accepting them.

Gandalf smiled at his remark. "Not every day, but even _you_ must recognize the pattern?" He arched a brow.

Edmund frowned and allowed his mind to wander off. He rather liked his conversations with the wizard, as he had realized on their journey to Minas Tirith. "There'll always be wars."

"Always has been." Gandalf concurred. He proceeded to pull out his pipe and light it.

"Shouldn't we be. . ._doing_ something?" Edmund looked around the room. As with the other few times he and the wizard had spoken, he felt time slipping from him only to discover that no time had passed at all.

"All in good time, my King" He puffed it and made a little mushroom of smoke erupt out the top. It smelled nicer than Edmund had feared. It was probable his brother wouldn't even be disturbed by it. "No you see, wars come and go. In the wake of a war there will always be a mix of peace and unrest as a nation tries to come to terms with the horrors it has seen."

Edmund nodded. He knew very well how wars affected countries. Most of his rule in Narnia had been spent dealing with the aftermaths of various wars. There were only three really great ones, but each one had still left a mark. _The one against Calormen in particular_. "I remember the songs that were written after the war against Jadis."

Gandalf smiled and nodded. "Songs of love and peace?"

"Exactly." Edmund tried to remember more. "About revolution also. Not all Narnians agreed with all our campaigns."

"Did you ever march to battle alone?" Gandalf asked. The conversation had been turned from an ethical and philosophical one to the Story of Edmund.

He smirked. "A couple times. My brother was usually the one who waged war. Usually with the north."

Gandalf nodded. "You each served your own corner of the map, if I remember correctly?"

"We did. I was King of the Western Wild."

Gandalf's eyes were alight like a child's on Christmas morning. "Describe it to me."

Edmund sank deeper and deeper into his memories. Mountains that tickled the soft underbellies of clouds. "It was magnificent," Animal calls that echo through pines. Wolves, howling on clear nights. A smell of soil and resin. "Green forests as far as the eye could see. _So_ many different Creatures lived there. So many of them I knew," Memories of running through his domain at night. For so many years he had trekked through his forest that, at the end, he had known every inch of it like he knew their backyard in London. "I used to sneak out on nights when I couldn't sleep, to wrestle wolves." His voice was a near whisper.

Gandalf smiled and tricked one out of the boy. "Snow weighing down branches," he whispered. Cold air that stung when you breathed too deep.

"Crisp season." Edmund echoed. The sound his boots made when he stepped in virgin snow.

"I would have loved to see it." Gandalf was staring into the ceiling.

Edmund snapped out of his thoughts and turned to the wizard. "You have forests like that here, don't you?"

"Not like _that_," Gandalf sighed. A cloud of smoke briefly blocked sight of him.

Edmund had the strangest sense that Gandalf wasn't just talking about the difference between one forest and another. More rather, that he was talking about the difference between one _world_ and another. Edmund was peering curiously at him when the wizard again faced the boy.

"But maybe I'll see it someday, hm?" His arched brows made him look almost innocent. He puffed out a bit more smoke and chuckled when his eyes caught sight of the figure on the bed. "Ahh, the King awakens."

Edmund swiveled in his seat and focused on Peter. "How are you feeling, Brother?"

Peter swung an arm over his eyes and breathed deeply. "They-" An inhale through the nose. "-They made me drink this foul tea and told me to stay in bed." He groaned.

Edmund petted his arm. "You should've seen what they did to my knee,"

"How-" He swallowed. "How long was I asleep?"

"Almost two days, dear boy." Gandalf said calmly. "On and off."

Peter was surprised to see the wizard. "I take it we made it to Minas Tirith?"

"Barely escaped Osgillicad alive."

The golden king sighed and tried to smother a weak laugh. "Ah, Edmund. . ." It was closer to a growl really.

Ed smirked.

Then in the span of a few seconds, Peter turned deathly pale. Edmund reacted out of years of experience and reached for the basin by the bed. He raised it just as his brother, the High King, leaned over the edge and vomited. "Your aim is getting worse." he noted dryly.

Peter glared at him when he sat back. "No thanks to the knock on my head."

"Next time, duck."

Gandalf chuckled.

And in the glow of their relief, they sat for almost fifteen undisturbed minutes. Right until the point Pippin barged in, breathless and terrified. "Faramir's returned!" He stood in the door looking a frightful sight. Covered from head to toe in Gondorian armor. A suit no doubt made for a child. Why they had children's suits, Edmund had no idea.

Gandalf was up before the brothers even processed the news. "And his men?"

"Only Faramir. The orcs are _moo_ving, Gandalf."

The wizard stopped halfway out the door. He turned back to Edmund and Peter with a sad expression. "I'm afraid our respite is over, gentlemen. The war has arrived."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> As some of you, brilliant, pretty -**o' SO pretty**- people, have already guessed: This chapter _wasn't_ about the action, but about the memory- and talky-bits :)


	42. Chapter 42: Gentle Disobedience

**Disclaimer:** Insert generic I-don't-own-speech HERE.

**Author's Note:** has been whipping my ass lately. I can't seem to find any of the new reviews and thus can't answer any questions personally. So I'll answer them here. Doesn't really change anything for you guys, I'm just really annoyed by it and thought I would allow my own annoyance to fester here...in public. :)

To Nightohisday: I love that you squealed! And (not a question you actually asked, but I've got some time on my hands (read: Bored)) I actually thought about letting Edmund join Faramir - he wanted to - I just didn't let him.

To Minirowan: That wonder will hopefully remain until the epilogue - yes there will be one of those. It IS Lord of the Rings after all. And thank you for your understanding and patience. Oh and the faithful reviews :)

To Anime Princess: I'm actually not sure what my notes say...have to cunsult those later. But I think the cordial is all done. And there is a reason for that (If my notes are cohesive with my statement). Sorry. Like an empty coke-can it is now just sad when one looks at it, and thinks "If only I could turn back time ten minutes". And I think you'll like what Susan does in the battle :) She's very brave.

And to Shara Raizel: I think I answered your question in a PM about the 'oo's. If not lemme know :) And you're right: It IS odd.

Thank you to all. You have no idea how lovely you all are :*

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><p>Chapter 42 – Gentle Disobedience<p>

They were packed within a day of receiving the call. Susan had met most of the men in her small éored. She felt confident they would follow her, but less confident that she should be leading them. It was one thing to go charging into battle with only herself to look after. It was quite another to suddenly have the responsibility of two dozen men.

Eomer was supportive, but seemed far too silent to actively agree with his king's decision. Eowyn rode with Lucy all the way to Horrowdale. The two held a quiet, supportive council most of the way. It appeared, even from a distance that Lucy was enquiring about Théodred.

Susan rode Nimzülae next to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. The four of them rode quietly. Legolas and Aragorn remained ever watchful while Susan worried over the upcoming battle.

"How much further till Dunharrow?" Gimli asked from the back of Ithilloth.

"Not even half a day." Aragorn answered. His expression hadn't changed since they'd left Edoras.

It worried Susan. "Aragorn?" He looked at her. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't try to put her at ease as he would have in the beginning of their friendship. Instead he sighed and refocused on the view. "I fear for the White City. We may be too late in our rescue."

His words rang true for the remaining three. All lowered their heads and sank into their own minds. "I fear for my brothers." Susan confessed.

All turned to look at her. She didn't smile either, preferring to be true to her feelings around her friends. They continued on in silence. They felt the rising tension of the coming battle. None of them could deny it or pretend it wasn't coming. They arrived to the outpost just before sunset. A brilliant light spread from beyond the mountains on the left. On the right was nothing but darkness.

"It'll be a moonless night," Legolas said and took a seat next to Susan. They were sitting around a fire with a couple of Rohan men across from them. "How is your sister?"

"Off with Eowyn. Probably up to something she shouldn't be." She glanced at him. "I heard Merry wants to fight."

He nodded. "It is true." He smiled. "Hobbits never cease to surprise me."

Susan smiled into the coming night. "They're a good influence."

"So you agree that he should fight?"

She shrugged. "He and Pippin helped bring down Isengard. They've proved themselves wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose," They had an unobstructed view of Harrowdale and the Dimholt Forest. "Someone is coming," Legolas suddenly said and sat a bit straighter.

"Who?"

He frowned and squinted. "A lone rider." He rose and offered to pull Susan up as well. She accepted his hand, but started in the opposite direction. "Where are you going?"

"Théoden can handle whoever it is. I need to find my sister and Merry."

He nodded, accepting that they had private things to discuss. He turned to for his quest to find Gimli.

Susan didn't find her sister, but found Eowyn and her brother. She came up behind the squabbling siblings and quietly nodded towards to Gamling who was in front of the fire. "Eowyn? What's wrong?"

The tall Rohan lady huffed and stormed off. Susan spared a look at Eomer before she turned and followed. "Have you seen my sister?" she asked when she reached Eowyn by the edge of the cliff. She couldn't help the subconscious glance down. It was nearly a two mile fall.

"No, sorry."

Susan nodded and stood next to her friend. A fire crackled someplace behind them and a bird called out somewhere in the darkness.

"I wish I had met you sooner." the blonde woman said in a sullen voice.

Susan looked up. "Why?"

Another birdcall echoed through the camp. It was soothing. "Perhaps then things could have been changed," She smiled sadly.

"Eowyn, what happened?" Susan twisted to look into her eyes. She welcomed the distraction from her worries over leading men into war.

"I realized my place tonight. As a Rohirrim and as a woman." She was staring into the night without really seeing it.

Susan had no idea where her head was at and decided all she could do was pull her out of it. "Will you ride with me tomorrow?"

She looked up sharply. There as something slightly hawkish about her features just then. "Women don't ride to war."

"I am."

Eowyn frowned in thought.

"Perhaps _this_ war calls for a change?" Susan was admittedly being selfish. She needed a friendly face by her side come morning. "And I could probably use the help."

"I must admit the thought has crossed my mind."

She cleared her throat awkwardly and made Eowyn laugh. "Not that you require help, but to join you. Rohan women have been set in their roles for a long time."

Susan suddenly had a flashback to an old conversation between herself and Edmund. So long ago. While they were still in Narnia. "Nothing is so set that it cannot be changed." She looked up and met the eyes of the tall woman. "In Narnia my brothers and I ruled equally." She realized that might be part of her story that had gone unnoticed by the young woman. "We had different strengths and ruled well within those boundaries, but they were never closed. If one of us couldn't fulfill our role another stepped in." She realized just _how_ much she wanted Eowyn to join her. "And you're better than I with a sword," She turned back to the night. The glow of the fire was licking their backs, making the darkness seem darker. "If there was any justice it would be _you_ leading those men."

Eowyn smiled bashfully into the clear sky. "May I confess something to you?"

"Of course." Susan looked back up in interest.

"I always planned on following," Her smile vanished. "It was only after tonight I considered to not."

"Why not?"

Eowyn glanced down with an embarassed smile. "Aragorn,"

"Oh," Eowyn gave a little laugh. She had noticed the interaction between the two, and knew the ranger had politely told her about Arwen. Susan waited with baited breath. "And now?" She didn't doubt that was what had changed Eowyn's mind.

The blonde woman drew a deep breath and stood a little straighter. "Now is another matter." She smiled.

"Ride with me," Susan asked and leaned in. "Bring Merry as well. He should fight." She edged a little closer and captured Eowyn's bright eyes. "_Be_ the change you'd like to see in your countrymen."

It was as if a light lit up the young woman's eyes. She smiled a smile that was brighter than any Susan had seen from her yet. A thought struck her quite suddenly. If Eowyn was brave enough to inflict a change in her world, perhaps Susan could be brave enough in the face of danger. Aslan knew she had battled with her fair share of predisposed opinions. And she had made it this far

Eowyn spent another moment in thought before she nodded. The air suddenly seemed sweeter and the Gentle Queen drew a sigh of relief. The women embraced before the queen left in search of her sister. She wanted both women by her side come morning.

* * *

><p>Lucy was watching the camp nervously. It took her a moment before she spotted her sister and weaved through the men to reach her. "Susan."<p>

"Lucy. I was just looking for you."

Her sister was smiling, but Lucy couldn't. Instead she swallowed and looked down. "Likewise. Can we talk?"

"Of course," Susan reached out a hand for nothing else than to feel her sister's.

Lucy took it and led them both into their shared tent. There she stopped in the middle of the room and clasped her hands nervously.

"Lucy, what is it?" Susan could feel worry returning.

With a deep sigh the youngest sister decided to leap without looking, as was her nature. "I remembered something about London." She turned and watched her sister through wide eyes. She knew this would break her heart. "I remember what happened before we came here."

Susan was frowning and took two steps further into the room. "Tell me."

She sighed again and glanced away. "We were dining at professor Kirke's with Aunt Polly, Eustace and Jill when a Narnian suddenly appeared."

Susan drew a deep breath. "When was this?"

"The night before Peter end Edmund broke into Kirke's old garden to dig up a pair of rings that could transport us all to Narnia." She took a little step closer in desperation when her sister pulled back in shock. "The Narnian looked like he needed help. He looked like a king, only he was young." Her words were coming faster and Susan's expression fell deeper into sorrow.

"I didn't realize,"

"Well we didn't have time to tell you, because-" She paused to draw breath and to summon up courage for the next part. "Because the next day, when we were waiting for Eustace, Jill, Polly, Kirke, and Mum and Dad at the train station something happened."

Susan's blood was rushing in her ears. She had a horrible feeling she knew what came next. She had a horrible feeling it would change everything. "Lucy. . . What happened?"

A tear dripped down Lucy's pretty, little cheek. "The train ran off the tracks, I think. I don't know if Peter and Edmund remember. I only remember a few flashes from that moment." A train whistle, cries from bystanders, the scream as tons of metal bounced off the rails and grated against the platform.

A tear to match her sister's ran down Susan's cheek. "You d-died?" It seemed almost impossible for force air through her throat, let alone words.

Lucy let out a little sob. "I think so."

Susan couldn't contain a sob either. Her hand went to her mouth. Something in Lucy broke at her sister's lost expression and she rushed in to hold her. Both girls needed the comfort that moment. The second she felt her sister's arms around her, Susan broke. She had been holding back as well, having felt so sure she was dead. She had been waiting for a way to tell her siblings and now it seemed like something had been ripped apart. They weren't supposed to die. Not her captivating, little sister. Never her.

"Susan, I'm sorry," Her voice was thick.

She sniffed and pulled her a little closer, not yet ready to let go. "I thought I had died as well."

Lucy ripped free and stared at her sister's ice-blue eyes in shock.

"I thought this was Aslan's Country when I first arrived."

"Maybe this is just one more thing to do before we can go there."

Susan sniffed and pulled away completely. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Did you ever see His country?"

"No," Lucy said sadly. "We stopped at the entrance. Edmund wanted to go home." Susan looked up. "I would have continued."

"I would've guessed the opposite." she admitted.

Lucy smiled, and it seemed as if the aura around her softened to a rosy hue. "I never would've thought I could be more proud of you."

Susan frowned.

"Leading those men. Surviving for a _whole month_ without knowing where you were or why you were there."

A blush snuck into her cheeks. "I realized pretty quickly why I was here."

Lucy frowned instead of asking.

"To help them win the war."

A smile snuck onto the Valiant's face the likes of which hadn't been seen since their time as regents. "I think _we're_ here to help win the war." She noticed Susan's confusion. "I think _you're_ here for a whole 'nother reason."

Her frown deepened, but as Lucy was about to explain, a familiar voice interrupted. "_Luuucy_?" Merry was shouting his way through the camp outside.

Both girls giggled quietly and shared another look. Susan's smile didn't quite reach her eyes any longer. Both were unsure of their own strengths even after all these years. It helped a little that men like Théoden could still doubt themselves, but it was still a surprise. In their Golden Age they had never felt that kind of insecurity. It helped that a godly Lion had blessed them, and that wise teachers had guided them along the right path. That they had been together.

"We should probably call him." Lucy said. Perhaps that was the challenge now? To survive on their own?

"Actually we should find Aragorn." Susan countered and wiped a stale tear off her cheek. "Legolas said a rider was approaching. He should be here by now. I'd like to know who it is."

Lucy nodded with a quick glance down, and followed her sister. She felt smaller somehow. Humbled.

They found Aragorn talking with Théoden and Lord Elrond of all people. Susan couldn't completely dispel the quick jab of concern over seeing him here. "Lord Elrond," She offered her hand which he took with a bow. "What are you doing here?" She glanced at Aragorn, sensing that something had passed between them moments before she and Lucy arrived.

"Returning something to its proper owner." He shared a meaningful look with Aragorn.

Lucy noticed his glance shift to Aragorn's hip and frowned. "A new sword?"

Aragorn nodded, but it was Elrond who answered. "Yes. A pleasure to meet you, Queen Lucy." He bowed to the queen. "A king's sword for a king." He once again shared a deep look with Aragorn. "As it should be."

Lucy smiled widely. "Well, let's see." She stepped over as Aragorn freed the weapon from its sheath. It sang through the air. He spun it in a slow circle and it caught the light brilliantly. "Wonderful," she sighed. She daren't reach out to touch it, but settled for admiring it from a distance. "How old is it?" she asked Elrond.

"Three _thousand_ years."

Elrond's answer made both girls drop their jaws in surprise. "So it really _is_ a king's sword? It's not Isildur's is it?" Susan asked. She vaguely remembered seeing something like it in Rivendell.

Aragorn noticed that something about her seemed darker than it had not an hour ago. Something had happened that instantly made him fearful for his good friend. He looked at the youngest queen and frowned. She seemed darker as well. Not like the girl he had come to know over the past days.

Elrond arched both brows in surprise. "Why yes," He turned back to include the entire group. "Very astute, my Queen."

Susan smiled quickly under the praise, but it didn't reach her eyes. Lucy smiled at her sister proudly. "But he didn't just bring a sword," Aragorn said. The statement was allowed to hang in the air until Lord Elrond excused himself.

"I have a long journey back." He grasped Susan's hands. "I truly hope we meet again, milady." He kissed her hand and turned to Lucy. "And you, young one." He smiled and grasped her hands as well. "It saddens me that we know so little about each other." He looked into her eyes as if he knew something he wasn't saying. "I feel we could have learned great things from one another."

Lucy nodded with a curious expression when he bowed to her and left. She glanced back at the Fellowship members. "What else did he bring?"

Aragorn wouldn't look at any of them. Wouldn't even answer. It was Gimli who did it for him. "He's leaving for the Dimholt road."

"What's the Dimholt road?" Lucy asked. Susan was watching quietly, already starting to feel torn.

Gimli wordlessly turned and pointed to a dark path behind them. A trail that led into the mountain. "A road of death and misfortune."

"Gimli," Legolas quietly admonished. The dwarf grumbled and quieted.

When Aragorn finally looked up he was looking at Susan. "We both made a promise. You have kept yours more admirably than I ever could."

Lucy had noticed that the two seemed to share a unique connection. She suspected this was Susan's first real friend outside Narnia or her family. That in itself made it a very powerful bond. To share large parts of oneself with someone not related by blood was a rare occurrence when one was queen. Even rarer when one was a thirty year old queen, trapped in the body of a nineteen year old British girl, and the other was a fairy tale-like man from another world.

"I fear I have to leave you," Aragorn said.

Susan drew a deep breath and nodded. Lucy suddenly felt very conflicted. She didn't want to ride into war. She felt the dark mountain pulling at her, much like she suspected it was pulling at Aragorn. "I suppose you and Gimli will follow him?" she asked as kindly as she could.

Legolas nodded. She saw her sister sag even more. She turned to Susan and tried to convey her confusion. Susan caught on with a deep inhale and a half shake of her head. "No."

"Susan, please," Lucy wasn't begging her sister's permission, but her understanding.

"Don't tell me it's because of a _feeling_." she bit off.

Lucy sighed.

"The road is too dangerous for little girls." Gimli tersely bit out.

The youngest queen bristled. Had she been a dog, her hackles would have risen. "I am not someone for _you_ to judge, Gimli, son of Gloin." Susan had shared his family name with her a while back. Under happier circumstances. "Nor am I a girl who needs protection, but a _queen_ in charge of her family's safety."

"And don't you think that goal is better served by your sister's side?" Aragorn asked quietly.

She sent a rabid glare his way and promptly quieted him. "Either you tie me up, and I follow your trail once I break free, or you accept the fact that destiny cannot be changed." She kept her voice strong. The more she argued the more she realized it was the right path to take. One of them needed to follow the Middle-Earthmen. She turned to her sister, who was staring at her through bleary eyes. Her expression softened. "I know you doubt your own place in the battle, Sister," She reached up a hand and hoped the formal speech made an impression. "But know that _I_ never doubted you for a second."

Susan drew a deep breath. "Are you sure about this?" She looked at the path that led into the mountain and leaned into her sister's touch slightly.

Lucy turned in the same direction. "Very." For a few seconds the queens each looked into the blackness of the Dimholt road before they turned to each other. Aragorn noticed they had the same tense expression. Whatever the decision, it would bring trouble. At that point old formalities rose anew. Two women had no place in battle, especially two beautiful souls such as theirs. But neither did he want to lead a young girl into danger. Each choice would lead to trouble, but each choice would also be the right one. He knew these sovereigns were capable of making calibrated decisions, fully understanding the consequences. He had doubt they would triumph, but still didn't like the idea of putting either of them in harm's way. With a weary sigh when Lucy nodded, he knew that whatever choice they made it was the right one.

"Make sure you remember everything." Susan said before she turned and left them standing.

Lucy watched her go sadly. As did the other three. It hurt that her sister wouldn't see them off. She imagined it was the only way Susan could bear to part with them. She decided that if she and her siblings came out of this unharmed she would never again let them walk off without proper goodbyes. She would have thought that lesson had been learned in Narnia. All the times they had marched to war for their country, and stood on the brink of death. "When do we depart?" she asked Aragorn.

"Now."

She nodded. "I'll get my things."

Her horse, the one Eowyn had lent her, was watching curiously when she approached. It was an old stallion named Wheatfang. Calm and unshakable with a lovely color of grain. It had brown eyes that looked more intelligent than they should have. It greeted her with a low whinny when it saw her. She quickly fetched her things and grabbed its reins. She mounted once she saw that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had as well. She knew they felt it was a bad idea for her to come. _She_ knew it was a bad idea, but felt something pulling at her. Something that reminded her of the walk through Fangorn, right before she found her siblings. _That turned out alright_. She thought in an attempt to calm herself.

"Ready?" the ranger asked.

All four nodded. As one they set off on the shadowy road through the dead mountain.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> More computer trouble that I won't bother you with. I hope this one was to your liking. My spirits have lifted a little: My muse has returned after a long vacation, and I have a good feeling about this story now. I think I'll be able to finish it.

Thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing. You rock! *Pumps fist in air* "Thank you, Cleveland! Goodnight!"


	43. Chapter 43: Eve of Battle

**Disclaimer:** Should I ever write something as wonderful, I should retire and buy a house in France.

**Author's Note: **Another one because I'm happy that my muse is back :P ...and because it's short.

* * *

><p>Chapter 43 – Eve of Battle<p>

Susan sat down in front of a fireplace and watched the flames nip at the night. She could still hear Théoden nagging Gamling about his three, lost warriors. With a deep sigh she deflated. She didn't feel very queen-like just then. More like a girl at the end of her rope.

She wasn't very brave. She wasn't very courageous. Her sister was the brave one. That thought inevitably led to the words shared by the girls earlier and she paused. Lucy had died. They all had. She reached up and fingered an arrow from her quiver. She held it out before her. These fletches were yellow. It made them stand out as much as her red, Narnian ones had. They were different, and yet the same.

It suddenly struck her that she hadn't even spared her old bow a thought. She had even forgotten about receiving it after Helms Deep. It had lost something when it was returned to her. All through their lives, their Narnian lives, the gifts from Father Christmas had been treasured. Little pieces of themselves that helped them evolve into adulthood. She had sensed then that Lucy's cordial had also lost some of its magic. It was no longer a part of her when it was finally returned empty. The same of her old bow. It felt as though it had served its purpose. It had been the way she defined herself for so many years. It had been a guide when she was lost.

Here she had once again become the archer she was in Narnia. Only with a different bow. A new one. She turned the arrow slowly and studied the feathers. Her old quiver had been blessed whereas this one was only what it appeared. What she had discovered late in life was that her old quiver could never run out of arrows. Her bow could never break. They had been magical items in a magical land. It seemed they had lost their power with the change of scenery.

She gazed over the camp, splayed out in the valley below. All she really had now was her new bow, and it wouldn't even do much good come morning.

What Susan did not know, was that her old bow had helped her begin. She could never guess that this new one was meant to help her thrive _beyond_ that beginning. To fulfill what she had started under Aslan's gentle guidance. But it is understandable since, at that moment, she was terribly conflicted.

_War on horseback_. She huffed. It was so different from anything she had ever undertaken. The only time she could remember fighting in a real war was with Caspian. She thought back on that trip. She had handled herself alright then. But there she had had her family beside her. Could she be that brave when she was standing on the frontlines alone?

A shuffle of clothes broke her out of her mind. "What troubles you?" Eomer asked quietly as he entered the circle of light.

She knew her eyes gave her away. Her family had always said as much. How stunning it was for that clear, blue color to contain such emotion. She smirked. "I sent my sister away with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli."

Eomer nodded. "I heard."

She glanced up at him. She so desperately wanted to ask him if he thought she could lead. She wanted someone who would tell the truth. "Where is Eowyn?" She just couldn't find the courage to ask.

"Helping the hobbit prepare."

She felt a need for the conversation to continue, but couldn't find the energy to fake interest in anything he had to say. With an awkward clearing of his throat he shifted. "If you'll excuse me?"

She nodded and barely heard him leave. She didn't care. All she could do was watch the fire and hope the morning revealed a new strength. Hope she could rise to the challenge.

* * *

><p>The next day began early. Just before dawn the soldiers were up. They left as the first lines of pink colored the horizon. A sound of drums was in the air. The smell of sweat and leather. The horses were tapping their hooves anxiously as heavy soldiers sat atop their backs.<p>

The Gentle Queen had slept restlessly. She had twisted and turned until she woke up with her head in the foot end of the bed. She ate her breakfast and readied Nimzülae without a word.

Her horse had been outfitted with steel armor for her debut as a warhorse. Most of the Rohirrims felt it was foolish to ride into battle on an untrained horse, but Susan knew it would bear the pressure well. It was a certain trust she had formed with the mare. One that kept them both in tuned.

She met Eowyn's eyes through the holes in her helmet when she faced her éored. Susan had decided not to wear one and was slowly regretting that decision. She felt exposed, but knew there was little she could do about it now. She looked over her men and drew a deep breath before set off in the wake of Théoden.

She didn't see the looks the soldiers gave her. Her long, black hair left no doubt that she _was_ a woman. Her soft face and plump lips seemed so at odds with the coarseness, and grimy outlook, of war. But despite it all, despite the fear that rippled through the soldiers, despite the doubt that a woman could lead them they all saw her riding into battle. Her. A woman.

As the first rays of the sun reached her armor and silvery steed, the men all saw what a greater being had wanted them to see. I king crying _war_ and a queen raising her sword in allegiance.

It was a day that would not soon be forgotten.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> _Now_ I'm done.


	44. Chapter 44: The Light of Dawn

**Disclaimer:** Once, when the world was created, God did NOT point to one of his children and say: "Thou shalt write all that doth inspire others!" Instead he scattered the wisdom among all his children and giggled maliciously as he did so. So the way I see it, the only reason I did NOT write Lord of the Rings or the Chronicles of Narnia was because their authors were born before I was. They had a head start. Do any of you think we fanfiction-writers should call do-over?

**Author's Answer:** To the Cretin: Yes I am in fact VERY disappointed in you! How can you put your own life and the lives of others before MY STORY! Very disappointed. A little sad as well- but MOSTLY just VERY DISAPPOINTED! (Please note the sarcasm above and seriousness below).

But I hope that whoever had to be hospitalized is better again, or will get better soon. Sometimes it helps to know a complete stranger empathizes with you - You can tell whoever is in hospital I said that.

**Author's Note:** And now for the speech I loved so much in the movies I couldn't NOT have it in my story: Gandalf talks about death.

* * *

><p>Chapter 44 – The Light of Dawn<p>

Edmund was watching the sun rise behind a plume of black clouds. They looked more like smoke than clouds really. His brother was standing by his side, watching with equal concern. "How do you think Frodo's doing?"

Edmund sighed. "I think he's tired." Or perhaps _he_ was the tired one?

Peter nodded. The silence fell as both brothers watched the sunrise. It was going to be a red day. A bloody one.

Their silence was interrupted by footsteps. "How is Faramir doing?" Edmund asked when Gandalf and Pippin sided up next to them.

"Still resting. I fear he won't even see our victory," The old man glanced over and caught Edmund's sly grin. "And you?" He looked both brothers up and down in a lightning quick movement. Edmund rubbed his knee absently.

"We're fine." Peter answered. "So. The orcs are moving?"

"Indeed. Scouts by the river saw the army set out last night." Gandalf leaned on the half wall and sighed into the pink glow.

"How many?" Edmund asked.

"At least ten thousand."

He nodded and looked down. "And how many on our side?"

"If Théoden comes and Aragorn follows the path in front of him, enough. But only just."

Peter turned to watch his brother and the wizard. Pippin was hidden behind Gandalf's white robes. Unknown to Edmund or Gandalf, they were posed in the same stance. Leaning on the stone wall with a wistful expression in the glowing sunrise.

"I didn't think it would end this way." The hobbit drew the eyes of all three when his sad voice interrupted their thoughts.

"End?" Gandalf sent an arched brow his way. "No the journey doesn't end _here_. Death is just another path, one we must all take." He turned back to watch the sun. Or Mordor, Peter wasn't sure which. "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass." All three men felt themselves get carried away. "And _then_ you see it."

"See what, Gandalf?" Pippin asked in awe.

"White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

The little hobbit sighed. "Well that isn't so bad,"

"No. No, it isn't." Gandalf smiled.

Peter let his eyes drift from his brother's profile and to the sky. "Sounds worth dying for."

Gandalf looked his way in surprise. "Yes. I suppose so."

The next moment a blast made all four flinch. A burst of green shot through the air. A pillar of light, piercing the sky from its nestled source somewhere among the mountains. None of them had the presence of mind to ask to what it was. Like a burst of light from the earth itself, it spewed into the thick clouds. All four stared in shock. Pippin was the first to recover his voice. "What's _that_?"

"It is the coming of a very old enemy. One Frodo has crossed paths with on his journey." Gandalf said seriously.

Edmund ticked a brow and glanced at the wizard. "Nazgul?"

He nodded. "The servants of Sauron." Then, in a great inhale he turned from the frightening view. "Come. Much is to be done before the hordes strike our walls." He started walking, with Pippin running on his heels.

Peter had to skip to catch up with his brother's swift trot. "What's a Nazgul?"

"It's not the Nazgul you should be worried about. It's what they ride." Edmund was staring straight ahead.

"What do they ride?"

"Dragons." he said listlessly.

Peter sighed and turned his eyes to Gandalf's back. "Oh wonderful." As they were leaving the King's Platform, he glanced back and saw tiny, black shapes soaring around the green light.

"When do you suppose the Black Calormenes will be here?" Edmund asked suddenly while they were following Gandalf to the officers' quarters.

"Too soon."

A shout drew the attention of both. "Pippin! Go check on Faramir. Make sure he's still resting." It was Gandalf giving the orders. He stopped when he noticed the brothers. "Edmund, you _must_ find Denethor and tell him to come out of hiding and command his army."

Peter was about to follow when his brother skipped off like a gazelle. Gandalf stopped him. "Though the attempt is worth the cost I fear the Steward is beyond anyone's reach. I'll need you here to command the men." He had to keep a hand on Peter's arm when the young man didn't move.

Finally, with a longing look in Edmund's direction, Peter turned and followed the wizard down into the lower streets.

* * *

><p>Edmund, who had lost Pippin when the hobbit ran off, found him again outside the throne room, leaving the healing wing. "Pip, have you seen Denethor?"<p>

He looked distraught. "_Noo_. And Faramir's gone _too_."

"Damn. So where would he take his son?" Edmund looked around when he saw a soldier crossing the hallway. He frowned and started moving automatically. What was a soldier doing inside the castle when the war was approaching? He and Pippin followed him down a flight of stairs and through a courtyard. They ran to the far end as he pushed open a set of doors and passed through them.

"What's this?" Edmund paused when he noticed two kings' faces above the gate.

He needn't have asked when he suddenly saw Denethor accepting a torch from a soldier, and lighting a funeral pyre. A pyre for his very _living_ son.

* * *

><p><strong>On the walls…<strong>

Outside Peter was only barely keeping the men together. The orcs had begun using severed heads instead of rocks. "Back to stations!" he shouted. Some of the guards followed his order, but most were running for their lives.

Then Gandalf's voice boomed through the city and every soldier stopped where he stood. "Your _king_ calls you to war!"

Peter watched in amazement how those who had fled came running back. And not a moment too soon. Apparently the orcs were done waiting. In Helms Deep they had waited till the tension rose to a breaking point before they attacked. Now they didn't even bother with proper lines. Instead every creature on the plains sprinted helter-skelter for the walls of the White City. Peter wouldn't worry until they got their siege ladders aligned. They'd never break through the gates.

A man, decorated as an officer, ran past him on top of the wall. "You there!" he called hastily. The officer stopped instantly. "Get the archers up here." Peter grabbed a discarded bow and loosed an arrow at the orcs. It was like a drop in the ocean, but every little bit helped. He waved the archers to him and lined them up to fire at the orcs around the gate. Before long they were all firing their arrows into the melee below.

* * *

><p>A clatter vibrated through the room when a metal pitcher hit the marbled floor. "Leave this place!" Lord Denethor screamed when Edmund and Pippin burst in.<p>

In a second Edmund took in the four guards, posted around Faramir. "Drop the torch,"

Denethor sneered like a wild animal in response.

"Lord Denethor, _drop the torch_!" He accompanied the order with a jutting finger.

When the Steward actually smiled, Edmund instantly knew he had lost what few marbles he once had, and made an executive decision. Instead of trying to talk a mad man off a pyre, he addressed his guards. "Your Lord has become unfit to rule. On behalf of Aragorn, descendent of Elendil, I hereby demand your allegiance."

The soldiers all looked at him and seemed to slump. Even Denethor looked somewhat confused as to the sudden arrival of a boy with such authority behind him. Then, with a lethal hiss, he answered. "There is no such son!"

Edmund could see the soldiers waver. "The Steward's son still lives. If not by the right of the true king, then by the right of another." He drew his sword, and noticed how Pippin silently slipped back. "Give up the torch."

"The _Steward_ of Gondor. . .does _not_ take orders from a _boy_!" As he spat out the last word like a curse, he released the torch.

Edmund dropped his sword as he flinched forward. Completely disregarding the guards, he ran up and pulled the Steward's feet out from under him. The deranged man had lit himself on fire as well as his son, and was now screaming in agony. The guards looked like lost kittens, and Edmund wasn't fairing much better just then himself. To his relief he saw Pippin pull Faramir off the pyre and put out the little flames that had licked up his chest.

The Steward rolled on the floor and somehow found his legs. The guard in his way fell back with a scream when the mad man ran straight for him on his way out. Edmund had no clue how to put him out, but thought furiously as he followed.

Three maids shrieked in surprise when their lord came sprinting through the courtyard, ablaze. "Get water!" Edmund screamed, but didn't know if it would be enough, or if they'd save him in time. By now the flames covered every inch of Denethor. In a moment of panic he caught himself hoping the man would just take a deep enough breath. It would kill him instantly, instead of burning him to death slowly.

He knew how long it took someone to die from being burned. If they kept screaming it could last for hours. If they inhaled just one, deep breath of heated air, they would die instantly. As he chased the steward through his castle, and out onto the deserted King's Platform, he felt more and more hopeless.

He had never forgotten the smell of burning flesh, and couldn't help fall back as the king sped towards the railing. He felt a strange sense of anticapation. A burden that would instantly be lifted off his shoulders once the steward disappeared from sight.

And so it was, Edmund the Just watched the Steward of Gondor hurl himself over the edge, and drew a sigh of relief.

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><p><strong>On the wall…<strong>

Suddenly somewhere in the sea of beasts, the masses parted. They moved so that a massive battering-ram could be moved into position. Peter's jaw dropped when he saw the monster they intended to breach the gates with. It was shaped like a wolf with a lit torch in its mouth. "Keep shooting!" When _he_ had stopped, so had most of the men. "Fire at the battering-ram." He ran past a tower to get a better aim. He realized he had the better position and called the archers to him.

The officer, who had now recognized him as someone capable of leading an army, assisted in moving the men around on his command. "You heard him. _Move_!"

Peter lined up a shot and fired. He looked over the field of battle and felt a brief moment of insecurity. Even if every citizen of Minas Tirith hit one orc it would still only compare to one wave. There were too many. They would keep crashing against the white rocks until there was nothing left but rubble. He needed to get down there. Into the fight and do what he was trained to for. Fighting atop a horse with a sword. Not hiding behind brick walls.

As the thought crossed his mind, he remembered Axis regretfully, and simultaneously heard a screech that made his blood freeze. Every man there looked up and saw massive creatures soaring through the air. "Man the catapults!" he shouted to the officer. The man – Aslan bless him – sprang into action without hesitation.

A new sound reached him and he turned his eyes to the south. Massive elephants were riding forth. It seemed the black Calormenes had arrived as well. It truly _was_ a sea of every monster imaginable. Never again in his life would he see anything like it, and suddenly a strange sense of sadness came over him. It was beautiful in its own way. Powerful and horrifying, but beautiful still. It was the feeling of once again being in control that made him miss the Nazgul atop his dragon, as it swooped down and attacked.

He was tackled by a soldier seconds before its mighty jaws clamped shut where his head had been. The air rushed out of him and his eyes followed the beast as it glided through the air and rose. It was hit by a rock from one of the catapults, but hardly flinched. They'd need something stronger.

The next sound that stole his attention was a distinctly human howl. Every man there looked up when a flame fell from the main terrace and plummeted through the air. Peter's mouth once again dropped when he realized the torch was a _man _on fire.

From a tower close by Gandalf looked up with sad eyes as the steward fell. The soldiers around, who were little older than boys, all looked petrified. "So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion." A boy looked over and met his stare. Gandalf wasted only one more second on regret before he shouted out an order. There was a war to be won.

Time passed, how much was impossible for Peter to determine. He hadn't thought of the human torch, and didn't realize who it was, until he saw his brother running towards him. Edmund had burns on his hands and arms. He reeked of smoke. The stench of burnt flesh as well. A smell he had once known far too well for his own liking. One which was impossible to forget once you had sensed it.

With blood roaring in his ears, Peter suddenly felt as if he was in the eye of the storm. All around him battles were being fought. But still, despite everything, despite the dragons that kept trying to rip the heads off Gondorians, despite the siege ladders that were being put into position, he smiled. It was a weary smile, but it sparkled like a little mirror under the sun. And very best of all was that his brother smiled back. The Just King joined his brother on the wall and took a moment to look him over.

Peter did the same and noted he sported a few first degree burns, but was fine otherwise. In fact there was a light in his eyes Peter had long been without. It was an expression that suggested the worst was over. That the unthinkable had happened and both were still standing. He figured Edmund had seen Denethor fall. Perhaps even been with him. The injuries could suggest it. He made a note to personally see to them after they won the battle.

Edmund stopped when he reached his brother's side. He turned to look over the battlefield with a calm he had long been without. It was a strange peace indeed, the death of Denethor had instilled in him. He felt unshakable.

This was what he was bred for. What he had trained for. As his eyes took in the brilliant sunlight and the gloomy smoke from Mount Doom, he almost felt at home. This was a place he knew well. The battlefield. Armed forces, charging their walls. It was one he had emerged from with success more times than he could count. He realized the fall of Denethor hadn't shocked him as much as it should have. In fact, the more he thought of it, the harder it was to recall.

But the worry was pushed away. _Look forward, Edmund_. His mind returned to the battle and on his brother who was smiling. "Any preferences?" Peter shouted over the noise.

Edmund looked into the air when a frightful screech sounded above them. He sighed deeply and almost smirked. "I'm very tempted to slay the dragon." He looked at his brother and smiled fully when Peter returned it. It was going to be a good day.

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><p>Little did <em>he<em> know that his newfound confidence was not his own making. The death of Denethor _should_ have triggered a long forgotten memory that had almost incapacitated him the first time around. His memories would have been so debilitating that he would've fallen into melancholy and lost the war.

Little did he know that a creature greater than himself had ensured those memories be forgotten till things settled. But dream, he would. The nightmares would eventually come, so horrific that not even Peter's steady arms could chase them away. Dreams that would make him long for death, only to finally have it delivered.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> It was a little rushed, but there's a reason for that. Also we see a strange reaction in Edmund here, and there's a reason for _that_ too. I do feel obligated to mention that it's not directly related to this story (the Edmund-part. Not the rushed part), but another I'm writing (the one that made you squee). Call it denial or call it _Deus Ex Machina_. That's what I do.

Thanks for the reviews from all of you :) and for reading - AND to those who read without reviewing. If there's ever anything you wonder about, or anything you'd like to ramble about feel free to do so. And as you already know, you all rock!


	45. Chapter 45: King of the Mountain

**Disclaimer:** I would save money so I could buy the publishing rights if it was possible. Alas I still own but what my fingers are tapping at right now.

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay.

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><p>Chapter 45 – King of the Mountain<p>

The group of four came upon a doorway into the mountain. It wasn't really a door, so much as a black void. It seemed like there wasn't even air inside. Their horses were released before they ventured into the darkness.

Until then Lucy had never believed in ghosts, but the unnatural silence had teased out a shiver along her spine nevertheless. She was trailing Aragorn, nestled in between him and Legolas. Gimli was huffing and growling like a dog at the inky black. "What is this place?"

"The dead city," Aragorn answered. His voice was barely a whisper, but it still echoed eerily loud in the silence.

The main room of the cave sported a huge, gaping hole. Like the floor had caved in. All along the walls grey towers rose and stretched higher into the darkness. There was a slightly rotten smell in the air and a ghostly moan of wind, pushing through gaps in the cave walls. "Who lives _here_?"

Legolas sent her a pedantic glare that made her clamp her mouth shut. "The _dead_."

But Lucy didn't believe in ghosts. There hadn't been any in Narnia and whatever she hadn't seen there she had summarily dismissed. Even after almost seeing Aslan's Country. Then again, she was in a new world. More doors were being opened each passing day, so perhaps she had closed her mind a bit too early for Aslan's liking? Whatever the case, she very quickly had a change of heart.

A grey mist rose from a chasm in the floor. Like a single being it billowed and shifted to seep around abandoned rocks and towers. All four unconsciously scooted closer to each other and drew their weapons. Lucy still had the bow from Orthanc and a set of daggers Gamling had given her after his victory in Helms Deep. They had belonged to an elf and it seemed a shame to let them go to waste.

The mist solidified and changed into something vaguely human looking. Lucy's breath caught in her throat as a king emerged from it. On his chest he sported an emblazed dragon. His skin had long ago rotted away and the fabrics on his arms were in shambles. But the ghostly echo of metal still clung to him. His armor looked very similar to the Rohans'.

"Who are you?" Aragorn called the king as he stepped closer. The mist around them turned to mummified faces with hollow eyes. "Answer me!"

"The way is shut," the mist breathed. "The Dead keep it."

Lucy shivered again, violently this time, and drew her knives. She backed up as the king stepped forward. Aragorn remained at the front while the other three pulled back. "Aragorn," Legolas hissed. He had his bow out. Gimli was growling and swinging his axe from hand to hand. She looked up and about and tripped over a rock.

The King of the Dead turned his hollow gaze to her. With a grim smile he drifted forward, right through Aragorn, till he stood directly in front of her. "What brings a woman here?"

Lucy couldn't think. All she could force herself to do at that moment was retreat. Legolas loosened the arrow and it sailed right through the dead king's head. He grinned and reached out a hand.

"And with such pretty trinkets," Instead of sailing straight through her, his hand grasped something solid around her neck.

She was openly shivering, but looked down when a chain tugged her down. It was the little whistle from Galadriel. She'd had it put on a chain like Susan's. A gift from a woman she had never met, given to her for a purpose she couldn't guess. "Who are you?" She stepped back and the king let the whistle fall from his hand.

"King of the Mountain, am I. Intruders are you." He let out a sickening growl. "We do not suffer intruders."

"We come to summon you to fulfill your oath!" Aragorn barked.

The dead king pivoted to look at the ranger. "None but the King of Gondor may command that."

Lucy thought she might be hallucinating at this point, but could have sworn the dead king looked intrigued.

"I am that king," Aragorn announced. Lucy sucked in a little breath. She had known Aragorn was royalty. She had known it, but this was the first time she actually saw it.

"Why does a king travel with ghosts?" the dead king asked and allowed a sick smile to light up his face.

Lucy frowned and took a little step back when another shiver rippled down her spine. Her hands still clamped around the daggers though she knew they were useless. "We're not the ghosts. _You_ are. We're alive."

The Mountain King turned and smiled at her. "Not all of you,"

"I'm not a _ghost_." she persisted.

"We _both_ are." he hissed with a smile.

She stared at him dumbly until he drifted around and addressed Aragorn again.

"The last king that breached these walls was left to die on those steps," the Dead King pointed to the entrance of a temple. "We do not suffer kings. We do not suffer the living!" He gripped his sword a little tighter and made to swing.

Aragorn whipped out Andúril and blocked the Dead King's green sword. A clang echoed through the caverns and sparks flew as both blades crossed. It was as if Andúril glowed on its own accord. As if the blade had caught the sun's light and now reflected it in the dark cavern. As the golden glow hit the king's face, a shiver rippled through the ghostly host. "You will suffer me!" Aragorn hissed.

The Dead King was pushed back by the edge of his blade and stumbled. A look of pure horror weighed down his face. "It is not possible. . ."

"And yet I live," Aragorn answered. He was heaving deep breaths as he rode off the sudden adrenalin rush. "What say you?"

The king looked up and about his men. His surprise turned to anger. With a growl he rose from the floor and dissipated into the mist he had come from.

"What say you!"

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><p>Outside the sun shone brightly as if it was oblivious to the cave full of ghosts under its domain. Aragorn's sword had stopped glowing.<p>

Lucy's mind swirled around the words of the Dead King. She couldn't forget how he had gazed at her through those empty eye-sockets. It was the first ghost she had ever encountered. It shook her a little. If there were ghosts, then perhaps there were worlds, full of creatures she had yet to see.

None of the companions spoke, preferring to think about the events they had just witnessed.

The cave had collapsed. They had run and barely made it outside. As they had stood there, breathing heavily, pondering just how fortunate they were for escaping, and how _un_fortunate that they had not found a new ally, the King had appeared. He had emerged from the rock wall like a toxin, seeping into the air and thickening it. Lucy knew she wasn't a ghost. She wasn't alive in England, but she was _here_. No dead king could convince her otherwise. At least that was what she told herself once she was again safely outside.

To the surprise of the four travelers the Dead King had accepted. He agreed to lend his army to the heir of Gondor on one condition: The king was honor bound to release them once the battle had been won.

Lucy sensed a strange animosity from the Fellowship members, as she had before. They seemed unwelcoming towards her almost. To someone as sensitive and trusting as she, it was hard to understand why anyone would not trust _her_. It frightened her a bit. It did not occur to her that the words of the Dead King had struck them deeper than it should. That seeing Susan in distress had unconsciously affected them.

As they left the riverbank where a fleet of black ships were approaching, she fingered her silver whistle. She wondered how the ghost had been able to touch it. Only Aragorn's sword seemed to have the same effect on it. She looked up at the ranger's broad back. With a sudden sense of falling, she wondered how much time she had left in Middle-Earth. How long it would be until they were made to leave.

The thought was buried, but the feeling stayed with her. It became impossible to ignore.

Their booted feet hit the soft sand on the bank of the Andúin River. The four travelers stood side by side as the flagship sailed to shore. A river pirate, in the truest sense of the word, stepped out to greet them. By his grim smile and shifty eyes Lucy could already tell she wouldn't like him. "What err four, litt'_ow_ mice like you doin' in the midd'_ow_ of nowhere?"

He reminded her of the harbor men in London. She didn't doubt he could sling out curses like one. Edmund would have smirked. But as she stood there, nothing filled her but an ever increasing sadness. It was inexplicable and unstoppable. She had never felt anything like it before and wondered what had caused it. The whistle rested heavily in her hand as the heat from her body slowly warmed it.

On Aragorn's command, the horde of ghosts billowed over the waters and seeped into every ship, killing silently as they went. Whatever screams might have been were suffocated and blanketed like a heavy fog sometimes did with the noise of the street. It concealed the river and shifted in lazy currents around them until it felt like they were the only four people alive in the world.

Lucy watched in silence, wondering why she hardly felt anything in the face of all that death. She sensed Legolas as he stepped up next to her and looked over the sudden silence. "Don't worry, Queen Lucy."

"I'm not." And she truly wasn't. It suddenly all felt doable. They might actually win with an army of dead on their side. But why then, did she feel so hollow?

"I apologize for my behavior earlier. I was unduly alarmed by..." His eyes drifted to the fog for answers.

"By worry for my sister." she finished for him. "The apology is sweet, but not necessary." She flashed a very dull smile and returned to the view. The last river pirates were dying and a breeze was making the flag ship drift closer to the shore.

"Do not worry yourself, Lucy." He almost whispered.

It peaked her curiosity and she glanced up at him.

"This sense of indifference is not your own doing." His eyes drifted to the Dead King as he grandly bowed to Aragorn on his way up the gangway. Gimli sent him a very suspicious look, but the king just smiled before he evaporated.

"It's _theirs?_" she wondered aloud, and accepted the arm he offered.

Legolas stayed by her side until they were both safely on board. Even as the ship was blown from shore, he remained close by. As did Aragorn and Gimli though neither of them knew why. Lucy wondered why Legolas knew about the emotional impact the ghosts had. Perhaps they didn't affect him the same way?

The fog cleared in front of them and they saw the White Mountains ahead. As she the fleet of silent ships floated down stream, she smiled. Things were grim, but now their side looked a little grimmer.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Again, pardon the delay. Things presented themselves that needed handling and...well... they were handled :) Thanks for reading, reviewing and whatever else you do to this story. It's all appreciated and honestly: Makes me feel a little like a rockstar.


	46. Chapter 46: When Dragons March

**Discliamer: **I own naught.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the awesome reviews! I think one of you came up with the right answer about something, but I can't remember what or who it was so... Anyway. Here were are at the near end of things. So the only real question is: What happens to honor and glory when dragons march?

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><p>Chapter 46 – When Dragons March<p>

The ride from Dunharrow to Minas Tirith was no afternoon stroll. Susan's backside was sore from her armor and her head hurt because of the sharp sun. She did not feel very mighty, riding into battle just then. Even Nim was starting to slow her stride. When she looked around she saw the same discouraging expressions of the faces of others. It felt as though something was working against them.

Though she hadn't spoken much with him, she half wished Eomer was there to calm her. He knew what they were riding into and could possobly have offered some helpful advice. As it were he was riding far ahead with King Théoden. Feeling a little lost, Susan looked around at her men. She didn't know any of them. They didn't know her. Was this Aslan's plan for her? To lead an army of strangers to their deaths. She now knew she had enough ability to stay alive in battle. Helms Deep had proven that much. What she was still unsure of was whether or not she was fit to lead.

The flat plains ran in smooth bulks like curves on a woman's body until they peaked in the White Mountains on her right. The company was led through the Galenhad road. A path that carved through the mighty rocks like a snake. It was hardly ever used because of its reputation as a restingplace for a nest of bandits. If anyone dared attack their army, they almost deserved what they got.

At the top of one of the steep slopes along the road she saw a tower. As they passed, the silhouette of a man became visible. King Théoden waved in greeting and the tiny man returned it. A knight by Susan's side came closer and leaned in.

"The sixth beacon." The voice was that of Eowyn.

Susan turned in surprise and saw her and Merry riding together. The hobbit was perched in front of her with a sad smile. She smiled as well, in surprise and delight over seeing her two, dear friends. "I thought you wanted to stay in the back so Théoden wouldn't notice?"

Eowyn's smile lit up the gray light of day. "I did, but Merry thought it best to stay among friends." The hobbit's smile turned a little brighter.

"You looked like you could use a friend," he said.

Susan's smile beamed out at them both. "More than you realize."

"We would be honored, Queen Susan, if we could follow you in battle?" Eowyn formally asked.

Susan tried to contain her laugh and offered instead a regal nod. "The honor is mine."

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><p>Several miles away, sounds of struggle could be heard through the languid noon air. Peter swung Rhindon and lopped the head off an orc. He and his brother were trying to stay together. The wall had been breached, against his confidence that it would hold, and soldiers had retreated. He glanced over in his brother's direction and saw him frown into the army of monsters. Peter knew what he was thinking because he harbored the very same thoughts. "Any sign of them?" he shouted over the noise.<p>

Edmund dodged an orc spear and shook his head. He was about to ask something when a mighty boom echoed through the battleground. A flash of blue shot out from a single point like an explosion. In a circle around Gandalf lay the orcs he had felled. His cry for valor was like a shot of adrenalin for both boys, and they ran to his aide. A Nazgul atop his fellbeast swooped down and nearly took the wizard's head off, but he moved surprisingly fast and narrowly escaped.

Edmund skipped past him and cut down two orcs who tried to take advantage of his brief distraction. Peter was right beside him. A mighty roar sounded from Peter battallion and he saw a wave of orcs push the officer and his men back. "No, push back! Hold them off!" he shouted across Gandalf's surprised expression.

While his back was turned an orc slid past his brother, and was about to skewer him. But Edmund cut it down from behind. They didn't see the wizard's proud expression as they returned to the mob of enemies. Peter glanced back and called out for him. "Where's Pippin?"

Gandalf, snapping back into the events around him, swung his staff, closely followed by a swipe of his sword. "I sent him to Faramir."

A faded memory of Jadis making a similar move, wielding a broadsword and her icy scepter, flashed through Peter's mind. He stiffened for a moment before he again reentered the fight with his brother. In these situations Edmund was like a machine. There was nothing that could distract him from the gruesome task of killing. It was like watching the great engines of London technologies, working in unwavering perfection. Peter always felt more alive when he fought. He knew Edmund turned _off_ his emotions, whereas Peter thrived on them. Anger made him bolder and stronger. Edmund always said his anger made him sloppy.

Another fellbeast screeched as it flew too close over their heads. Every man on the wall ducked as it passed. Peter straightened to a sight unlike any other. On the far ridge of the Pelennor Fields he saw a line of sparkles. Flashes so swift one could play it off as imagination. He heard a roar of "_DEATH!_" and saw a wave of black horses thundering down the slopes. "Edmund!"

His brother stopped and gazed in the same direction. The smile that lit up his face was closely mirrored in Peter's. "Susan." he shouted in joy. It was indeed Théoden King and his mighty army of horses. The very army that would bring with it the blessing of two queens in armor. Their wonderful sisters were finally riding into battle the same spectacular way Peter and Edmund had so often done. Only very rarely did one see such a vision. It was like a piece of art, Peter thought. Even rarer was it for someone to be a part of it. To know you were on the right side in the fight between good and evil. To feel the sucking sensation as one side crashed against the other, and to hear the roar of one's own heartbeat as it was echoed around you by the sound of singing steel and the pounding of hooves.

Edmund and Peter sped from the fortifications to get horses. They were followed by the officer, and those of his men who had accepted Peter's command. Along with Gandalf, the small army rode out to greet Théoden in victory.

But in the roar of his own heartbeat and the light of Rohan armor, Peter forgot that there was still one enemy they had yet to see. Edmund remembered grimly that they hadn't seen a shadow of the Black Calormenes.

As he and his brother rode out to find their sisters, he looked to the south. No matter how secure their victory seemed at this moment, things could very quickly change. He would keep his gaze south while his brother's swept the plain for the queens. He would remain the guardian of the ones he held most dear.

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><p>Lucy watched as the dank waters of the Andúin River swirled in slow vortexes. She had considered Legolas' words carefully. It was strange that now when she was aware of it, the emotional impact felt lessened. Her eyes traveled back and saw the army they had procured. A dozen ships were trailing theirs. All of them appeared empty at first glance, but inside every single one hid an army of ghosts. It was the ghosts who were captaining the ships by some darker means. Lucy fingered the whistle around her neck as she looked over the waters and into the sky. The entire east was one, black cloud. She lent a prayer to the two hobbits she had never had the chance to meet. She asked Aslan to give their legs strength and their minds clarity.<p>

It was a long time since she had prayed to Aslan. A real prayer. Usually it was little things. A quick burst of love for a wonderful sunrise. Brief moments of silence when the world, and all beings within it, danced only for her. Like the butterfly she had seen on the morning of the dinner with Professor Kirke. Those were the things she wanted to thank Him for. She never felt completely justified asking Him for anything regarding herself. It seemed too grand to ask anyone so great for anything so small. She was only one being in several worlds filled with wonder. Sometimes she questioned why he had placed such trust in her.

In the end it was always her siblings who reminded her. _Love_. It was all about love. Jadis had been defeated by the love of two brothers. Narnia had thrived under the love of a gentle heart. Her people had laughed in light of a little girl's laughter. The words of the Mountain King returned to her.

_We're all ghosts_.

His words resounded in her mind. Were they just ghosts of their former selves here? Little better than shadows. She admittedly felt that about herself, but not about Susan. Her loving sister seemed more alive _here_ than she had anywhere else. _Even in Narnia_, she begrudgingly thought. Was this perhaps her home while the rest of them were only visitors for a spell?

One good thing to come of the strange ghost-induced mood was that she now remembered so clearly what she hadn't before. The train that had collided with the station. Such intense sound. She had smelled the fear before it hit. So unexpected in the light of the task they had taken upon themselves. But it was a good way to die, she decided. They had been about to send Eustace and Jill back to Narnia when everything exploded in screaming metal and hot air. To die on the brink of such a task. Life had seemed interesting again, and to her surprise death was far from dull. Perhaps that was the true meaning of the prophesy?

The thought left her just as it began. The ships were setting shore. Orcs were there to greet them. "By the word of the King of Gondor, I order you to stand down," Aragorn's loud voice carried through the gathered.

The orc in the lead chuckled. "You and what army?" It's minions laughed with it.

"This one."

And forth they came. A green mist that brought with it a chill down one's spine. The Dead Army billowed forward and suffocated the entire city of Osgiliath in silence. She hoped never to become _them_. Never to roam the world of the living as a shadow. Her death should be final and at the same time it should be the harbinger of new adventures. She didn't feel ready to rest. Though she was old of mind, she was still a child in body. She still had the energy as someone her age did.

Silence fell far too fast. The orcs were slaughtered without mercy. In the end the only living inhabitants of the city were the four of them. They ran through the empty streets until they reached a field.

Large elephants were marching towards Rohan and Gondorian warriors. Several of the huge beasts were already dead. The Dead Soldiers quickly killed the rest.

She stood in the midst of battle, as cries of pain rang out all around her. One hand on a sword, the other on the whistle. She looked up when a dragon soared right by her. It circled back with lethal intent. Without thinking she brought the whistle to her lips and blew. Mindless of her bandaged fingers. From the delicate silver cylinder came a sound unlike any other.

Before there had been no sound when she blew, but now the hiss of the whistle was violently echoed in the screams of both dragon and Nazgul. The two thrashed in mid-air until the dragon hit the ground with a boom and a small explosion of grass and soil. They had crashed only a few yards from her, and she reacted without thinking. Sprinting through the dead and dying orcs, she raised her sword and let out a battle cry. "_For Aslan!_"

Just as she swung out at the Nazgul, he turned and brought up his own sword. She felt it hit hers with such strength her arm vibrated. She parried and sidestepped to stay out of his reach until they had gone in a full circle and traded places. With a lightning quick jab she stabbed the witch in his side and felt a sting run up the length of her arm. She dropped her sword in surprise and turned when a low growl sounded from behind.

The massive dragon was curled up like a snake, its wings tucked close. When she turned she found it was close enough to touch.

What next transpired did so in such a rush that she would have trouble retelling it later. For it certainly was a story worth telling.

**TBC...**

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I know. I'm vicious. *smiles evilly*


	47. Chapter 47: Wardens of Darkness

**Diclaimer:** I don't own Lord of the Rings or Chronicles of Narnia. The honor belongs to two, furry, old men.

**Author's Note:** Funny little thing. While writing this I listened to the soundtrack from the new movie called Hanna. It's by Chemical Brothers and it's very good. Looking back now I don't think it helped in the creative process at all... Huh. Make mental note: Electric synthesizers just don't mesh with the fairy tale style of Narnia and middle-Earth.

But nevermind. Now is reading-time, so: A deep breath...

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><p>Chapter 47 – Wardens of Darkness<p>

**South...**

Susan held on when Nim bucked to avoid a wild swing of a club. "Fire at the elephants!" she screamed at the archers behind her. She thought she saw Legolas slide down the trunk of one, only seconds before, but he vanished too quickly in the chaos.

In a wave of arrows the huge beast roared as it fell. Soldiers cheered while others continued shooting. She caught Eomer's eye a second and felt a weight lift from her chest when he sent her a feral smile. The earth shook when the massive mûmak hit the ground, but in the following silence she noticed a horrible sound in the air. The scream of one of those dragon-like things.

Her worry suddenly spiked, and without reasoning she straightened her back and looked frantically around the battlefield. She had never been one to ignore such feelings. True to instinct she saw a flash of a long, black dragon curled up on the ground. In front of it stood a soldier, dressed in red and gold. A figure she easily recognized.

"_LUCY!_"

She kicked Nimzülae's flanks and the horse eagerly complied, leaping over a crouched orc as he was being slain by a Rohan knight. Nim breathed deeply and its massive hooves pounded against the packed soil. As the dragon was just about to leap at her younger sister, the horse sprang into the air. Susan felt a set of strong jaws sink into her thigh and the subsequent thump when she hit the ground with her horse trapping her right leg. Nimzülae screamed as the creature bit into its flanks and yanked it down mid-air.

"Susan!" Lucy's scream chilled the blood in all who had never heard the horrible voice of Sauron. Every human soldier, knight, king and commander within shouting range, shuddered in fear. Then, as one, all began running to aid the queens, sensing that something had gone horribly wrong.

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><p><strong>North-west...<strong>

Peter caught sight of a dragon when he and Edmund ventured out onto the battlefield. It was crouched in front of a Rohan soldier with long, blond hair. He didn't think any more of it when the soldier leapt forward and cut off its head with three powerful thrusts before engaging the Nazgul. He turned his gaze east and saw another dragon gliding through the air until it suddenly screamed.

When he looked closer he realized it wasn't the dragon screaming, but the witch riding it.

"Hya!" He kicked the horse onward with his brother right beside him. A familiar rage bubbled to life and warmed him inside out. His hand grasped the well-worn grip of his sword. The movements of his steed brought back every memory he had of riding into battle. And almost all of them included his brother. He smiled and cut down as many orcs as he could without veering from his path.

The closer the kings came to the dragon, the fewer soldiers and orcs there were. The Gondorian officer was still following with three of his men. Gandalf was somewhere else, probably trying to find Aragon. When the kings reached the site, they saw more than they had expected. The Nazgul was slashing at Lucy, who was valiantly trying to protect her sister. But what she couldn't protect Susan from was the dragon that was biting into the flanks of her beautiful, silvery Maera. The horse screamed in agony as the dragon tugged it further back. Susan was on her side, trying to pull her bow. Her right thigh was covered in blood, which continued to spill over the muddy field.

Peter went pale when he realized a lot of the blood belonged to his sister. Edmund as well, whose mind processed the scene in seconds. The shock hardly registered, but would hit him later. Instead he focused on the dragon.

Without having to think twice, Edmund instantly recognized what kind of animal it very closely resembled. At least when it came to killing. Obviously in flight it would have the advantage of simply swooping down and picking something up, much like an eagle. But on the ground it was heavy and clumsy. He saw it chomp and release Susan. Instead of attacking her it once again bit into Nimzülae's flank and tugged at it, much like a cat or dog would have done. It kept tugging and backing up until the horse had been pulled completely free of Susan's grasp.

Lucy ducked a blow from the Nazgul's broadsword and jabbed it with her dagger. She held her own and she was as of yet uninjured. Edmund moved without thinking when he saw the dragon discard the horse with rattling bellow. He knew Peter would want him to check on Susan while _he_ dealt with the dragon, and did exactly the opposite.

With a roar, and just as the fellbeast reared back to strike at his injured sister, he lunged in between them and swung out his sword. The elven blade slid through the air with a deadly whistle, and nicked the dragon just below its left eye. He felt Peter pass him and heard his voice as he tried to assess Susan. Lucy was still holding her own, and even seemed victorious. Susan wasn't speaking at all. She could only stare at her dying horse. She hardly felt the three puncture wounds in her thigh, only the cold feeling of blood leaving her body. She didn't see her brother's troubled expression or hear his attempts at snapping her out of her trance.

And with her, Peter felt the world around him slip away. "Susan, please." Shaking her shoulders. "Susan, wake up! C'mon, sister," Pleading and stroking her cheek, but nothing worked.

And then suddenly he heard a terrible scream unlike any other. He knew then without looking that his brother had slayed the dragon.

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><p><strong>Centerfield...<strong>

Aragorn heard the chilling scream of a horse and rider through the battlefield. The Dead Army wouldn't go near any of the Nazgul or their mounts. He suspected the Nazguls' magic had much to do with it. Through the chaos of heaving bodies he saw Legolas signal him and Gimli. They ran east. Back towards Osgiliath where one of the dragons had fallen. As the three thundered into the cleared area around the Nazgul and his dragon, they saw a sight unlike any they would ever see again.

The four Pevensies were boxed in on two sides. Lucy was thrusting out with her twin daggers and pushing the Nazgul back. Her movements strongly reminded Aragorn of the way a snake moved in the seconds before it bit. As its head hung delicately in the air and its teeth, or daggers in this case, waited for the precise angle to do most damage. Peter was kneeled in front of his other sister with his back to the dragon. But the most wonderful of all was the sight of a soldier dressed in dark colors, wielding an elven sword against the massive dragon. Dancing around it.

He began running without thinking. He could hear the pounding footsteps of Gimli and the almost soundless steps of Legolas behind him. He could see a Gondorian officer, holding back his men, and Eomer and _his_ men circling around Lucy and the Nazgul. Then, in a movement that looked too fluent to come from a boy, Edmund danced out of range of a swipe from the dragon's snapping jaws before he pirouetted and brought his sword up to connect with its left side.

It screamed and caught the attention of the Nazgul for a second. That second was beautifully utilized as Lucy swung her right dagger up and out, disarming the witch, before the brought her left dagger up and pierced his heart as well. A boom blasted through the field and then began sucking in the air.

The dragon mewled as it collapsed on the ground with Edmund, heaving for breath in front of it. Victorious.

Lucy screamed and clutched her left hand when a shockwave blasted out around her. But she also stood, victorious.

It was in that moment that Aragorn, son of Arathorn realized the power these children possessed. As one, the two youngest made their way over to their siblings. Lucy walked whereas Edmund crawled. He put a hand on Susan's shoulders as Peter held her tightly, and Lucy tended to her wounds.

As one they watched until Aragorn was disturbed by the Dead King. The specter materialized rather suddenly in front of him with a worried expression. And Aragorn felt such sorrow on behalf of these men. To have spent centuries trapped between this world and the next. He was so moved by the look in the Dead King's eyes that he hardly even heard Gimli whisper to keep them.

With a deep exhale he released the ghosts of their thousand year old oath. The king breathed a sigh of relief as well and began to dissipate. As the remnants of green, noxious mist vanished into the air, Aragorn knew he had made the right decision. He felt lighter. The air smelled sweeter. Such things weren't meant to remain in the world. Their presence poisoned the lives of the living.

Just then, in the eyes of himself, his men, Théoden's men, and even in the eyes of a creature far greater than himself, he _became_ king. And on that day, the last day of his 87'Th year, the ranger known as Strider, stood on the field of battle, conqueror of the last Lord of Darkness.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And let go... But the war isn't over as you may remember, and neither is the story. Like the Lord of the Rings, it will take a lot of wrapping up and a LOT of mental healing before I can sign out.


	48. Chapter 48: The Last Victory

**Disclaimer: **As always...

**Author's Note:** Once again I'd like to thank all those who have followed me through the story. I'd like to thank you for reading, for reviewing and for enjoying. And I'd also once again like to thank Jeanet for all her help in creating this story of ours. I truly couldn't have done it without her.

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><p>Chapter 48 – The Last Victory<p>

Susan was accompanied inside. While soldiers and knights alike helped carry the wounded and dead away from the field, the Pevensies were excused. It was only a brief respite since there was still a war to be fought, according to Aragorn. Edmund was amazed at the change he saw. The man had the makings of a great king. But at that moment his childlike wonder was overshadowed by concern for his sister.

Susan had been brought to a room in the Citadel on Gandalf's command. Lucy was in there with Eowyn and a group of very capable healers. Peter and Edmund had been exiled to the hall. Though the battle of Minas Tirith had been won there was still an unspecified number of orcs and assassins around. They were stationed outside her doors with weapons at their sides. The usual guards had been excused on behalf of the extensive battle-triage that awaited them on the Pelennor Fields. Soldiers who were too injured to fight needed to be brought to safety behind the walls.

Neither of the brothers could think of anything besides the state of their hurting sister, however. Lucy peaked her head out for a brief moment to alert them that Susan would live. The wounds were not fatal, but would hurt for weeks. That left the brothers to fret about the psychological effect this battle had had on her. Seeing someone, or some_thing_ you loved, die was never easy. Add to it a physical injury, and the post-traumatic stress of a battle would be almost impossible to expect a quick recovery over.

Peter was perched against the door. His head was hanging as he tried to listen to any sounds from within the room. Edmund was squatting across from him with his black eyes turned to his brother's head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Legolas enter the hallway, silent as a house-cat. He came to stand and Peter looked up when the elf stopped in front of them with his wide eyes on the closed door. "How is she?"

Edmund thought he picked up a tremor in his voice. It gave him pause because, according to the elf himself, he had seen his fair share of battles. It couldn't be blamed on his own fear, but rather fear for another. Fear for his sister. "She'll live." he answered for his brother.

Legolas looked at him. It was odd to have those shallow eyes stare at him as if they could see straight through. "And you?"

Edmund glanced over at Peter before he nodded and looked down. "We're fine. Would you like to stay?" The question looked like it surprised the elf. It even surprised Edmund a little. He didn't know why he accepted him so easily. He didn't have the same relationship with him as Peter, not having known him for very long. He _certainly_ didn't see him like his sisters. But there was something about him. He seemed a little detached from his surroundings, except when it came to Susan or Aragorn. It was a change he liked to see. Especially knowing how his sister felt about him.

Legolas caught Peter's eye uneasily, and shook his head. "Aragorn marches on Mordor."

Both brothers shot up in surprise. "What?" "…_When?_" They fired off simultaneously.

"In an hour or so. For Frodo." he added. His eyes sought briefly towards Susan's door as if he wished she would lunge out of her room, healed and ready for another round.

"It was only her second battle." Peter said, as if reading his mind. "She watched someone she loves die in this one. She's never done that before," He looked at his brother. "Not in war anyway."

Edmund nodded, but only held his gaze briefly. The Just King was staring at the floor when a strange urge filled him. "How many men does Aragorn have?" He caught Peter's incredulous expression even though he was looking straight at the elf.

"Only a couple hundred are fit for battle."

Edmund nodded, and looked up slowly. Peter's eyes were burning and swimming at the same time.

"Peter…" He could tell his brother very much wanted to demand his brother to stay home.

Instead he looked at Legolas with his eyes overflowing. "Will it make a difference?"

The elf looked between the brothers, as if sensing that something deeper was being said. "It will hold the eye of Sauron, and hopefully allow Frodo and Sam respite from their journey."

Peter nodded as he processed the information. "You're going." It wasn't a question. It also wasn't a pledge to join him.

Edmund nodded. "It feels like I should."

Peter huffed and smiled through the tears that silently fell down his cheeks. "I know. I feel the same thing."

Edmund frowned. "Are you coming as well?" His voice was low in the great surroundings of the old castle.

The Magnificent shook his head. "I c-can't," His voice shook. Edmund noticed that his hands were splayed out on the door behind him. "I can't leave her." he whispered.

Edmund nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be." With a deep breath Peter stepped forward and unbuckled the sheath that held Rhindon. "I'd like you to hold onto something for me." He offered him the sword casually.

Neither of them noticed as Legolas slipped away to give them a moment. "I can't take this," To Edmund it felt so final. It didn't feel like his brother was simply lending him the sword. "It's yours- _Caspian's_."

"Caspian doesn't need it anymore." He pushed the sword out and his brother reluctantly took it. "Don't you feel it?"

And he _did_ feel it. It felt like something was missing. Like something wasn't there anymore. "Do you think it's Narnia?" His whisper carried through the brick walls.

He nodded without a word. "I think our home is dying. Or at least changing."

The thought brought tears to Edmund's eyes. He swallowed thickly and glanced away. His brother's weighty stare suddenly became too much. "Will you stay here then?" He changed the subject in the hopes his brother would accept.

Peter smiled sadly and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "Until you return." Edmund nodded and took Rhindon fully. "I know you know how to handle two swords."

"Yours is a broadsword. It's not meant to be held in one hand." he mumbled as he strapped it to his waist.

"You'll manage," Peter said through a quick smile.

"Tell Susan I love her if she wakes up?"

"Of course."

Edmund was breathing deeply, and shaking a little as well, when he suddenly forged forward and grasped his brother in a hug. He latched on like a kitten, his fingers curling around the soft shirt like tiny claws. His brother held him with infinite patience. He buried his face in his shoulder and allowed a tear to fall. He sniffed and pulled himself together, but another tear dislodged for his brother to see. Peter wiped it away with a thumb and kissed his forehead. "Go with God. Let your feet be swift as a Cheetah's, let your war cry paralyze your enemies like a Tiger's roar, and may your arm wield the strength of a Lion's blow."

"That's a very old field oath," He smirked and Peter smiled with. It was from before their Golden Age.

"But it works." he whispered.

Edmund allowed the grin to blossom into a smile before he turned and ran down the hall. Legolas was waiting around a corner. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Not much," the elf half-smiled. "I was trying not to listen."

Edmund smiled and guided them both out of the castle. In the fair just in front of the gates they were met with a couple hundred men, as Legolas had predicted. They spotted Gandalf and the rest of the Fellowship easily enough in the crowd. Pippin and Merry had found each other and were speaking with Eomer and Eowyn. All four looked upset. Edmund hurried over while Legolas veered off to speak with Aragorn. Pippin spotted him before he could ask what had upset them so. "How's Susan?"

"She's resting. What's wrong?" Eowyn looked like she had cried and Eomer had a hand on her back for comfort.

"King Théoden has fallen in battle." Eomer answered. Eowyn whisked away a stray tear in a lightning quick movement.

"Oh no," Edmund took in her sad eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry." he whispered.

She nodded, but didn't speak. Eomer did. "It was she who protected him from the Witch King." He looked at his sister with unabashed pride. "She slaughtered the dragon and his rider better than a man could have."

"I thought they were impossible to kill?" Edmund stared at her in surprise.

She shook her head. "Impossible for a _man_ to kill."

Edmund frowned. "Lucy killed one as well."

"We saw." Eomer answered.

Silence fell between the companions when Aragorn's voice called out across the crowd. "We head for the gates of Mordor!"

"Walking?" Pippin looked around. "Are we walking?" He sounded heartbroken about it.

Merry smiled. "Don't worry, Pip. I'll wait for you."

"As will we all, friends." Eomer said with a smile and guided his sister in front of him as the crowd began moving.

In a troop of two hundred and fifty men and women, they left the White City. They headed bravely towards the black horizon. Each with their own fears and worries, but all with the same purpose. To end the war, one way or another.

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><p>Susan was lying on her bed with Lucy by her side. The healers had left the two alone. She was sleeping while her younger sister kept watch. She looked up when the door creaked open and welcomed her brother with a smile. He looked heartbroken. "How is she?" he whispered.<p>

Lucy glanced down at their sleeping sister with a frown. "She'll wake up and cry or scream. That'll happen for a few days. After that she'll fall into depression and not speak at all," Her voice was weary and as if she had seen the future, and lived through it all before. In a sense she had. With her brothers, with her friends and with herself. "That will probably linger for longer."

"Nimzülae is dead." Peter said quietly.

Lucy nodded. "I figured as much. Did you see what happened?" While Lucy had _been_ there, she had been preoccupied with the Nazgul and hadn't seen much else.

Peter nodded. "She bled out. I think Edmund sat with her." Neither of the siblings thought it strange to devote precious time to a horse. Had it been Narnia they would have done the same, Talking Beast or not.

"That's good." Lucy stroked Susan's forehead gently. Peter came over and took a seat on the opposite side of the bed. "This reminds me of _my_ first battle."

Peter became, if possible, even sadder. "I remember that one." Back then all three siblings had watched over Lucy every night in sleep for almost a month while she dealt with the horrors she had seen. "You were so sad," he whispered.

Lucy smiled sadly. "I got over it."

"I wonder if that was good or bad?"

She looked up in surprise. Never in their years as rulers had Peter expressed regret over her involvement with the army. He had often disagreed with her, often fought over battle-plans, but never regret. "Did you expect me to remain a child forever?" She tilted her head and looked at him knowingly.

Peter huffed through a smile. "Never." He looked over and caught her smile as well. "But I miss my baby sister sometimes." He reached down to stroke Susan's black hair. "Just as I miss my baby brother, or my gentle confidant." Susan would never be the same. She might become stronger and more capable. Fiercer. But she would never be who she was.

"All change is scary, Peter."

He smiled again and looked up through his bangs. They were getting long. "How did you become so wise?"

Lucy's smile widened. "I had excellent teachers." Both of them beamed at each other. Then she suddenly looked around in wonder. "Speaking of teachers. Where is our dear brother?"

"He joined the others. They're marching on Mordor." Peter sighed. "He felt he should be there."

Lucy glanced at his hip and noticed something was missing. "You gave him your sword?"

He nodded. "It's lost something since coming here. It feels like something very important has changed, but I can't see change anywhere."

"Narnia." she stated sadly. She felt it too. The sense of devastation. Of not feeling like she belonged anywhere anymore. "It feels like something bad is happening there. Like it's dying."

"Edmund told about a nightmare of his a week ago. He dreamt of Saruman, as I expected, but he dreamt something else as well." He looked up. "Of fire falling from the sky and oceans drowning our home."

"Like the prophesy?" she asked in surprise. The very same prophesy that had been written about their arrival and later ascension of the four thrones.

"Exactly like the prophesy." He took his hand off his sister's forehead.

"Do you think she feels it too?" Lucy asked.

Peter looked down and once again wished she had been allowed to remain gentle. "I hope not." He sighed. "And at the same time I hope she _does_."

Lucy nodded. She knew what he meant. She too wished she had never felt it, but since she had she hoped their sister wasn't left out of the revelation. Somehow it would mean she wasn't as connected to their old home as the other three, and she didn't believe that. She didn't _want_ that. "She'll wake soon enough."

"And when she does?" Peter looked at her expectantly.

"When she does we'll hold her and tell her everything will be alright." He nodded. "Just like you did for me."

He nodded again and replaced his hand on her forehead. He felt scared whenever he wasn't in direct contact with her. Seeing her this fragile was wreaking havoc with his nerves. He guessed that was why Edmund had followed the others. Their brother had never much liked standing still.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> This one ends rather abruptly, and as a countermeasure the following chapter starts up rather softly...I think. Oh and by the way, the story has been completed. I now only have to finish the epilogue :) Yay!


	49. Chapter 49: Hymn of the Boy King

**Disclaimer:** Read 48 previous.

**Author's Note:** You've all been great. It hit me today that I'm done. Finished. Finito. For you it's only been a month or so, but for me it's been four. It feels like most of my sparetime this past month and the first month of writing this story was spent solely on this. Now it feels really weird to let go. Huh... A little sad as well :( Maybe because the ending to this is less than happy. Oh and how many of you now know when in the Chronicles of Narnia timeline this is set? Right answer gets a cookie!

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><p>Chapter 49 – Hymn of the Boy King<p>

Eomer stood in front of a force of several thousand. It only took the orcs a few moments to completely surround Aragorn's army. For that was what it was now. He couldn't rightfully claim anyone's allegiance yet. Not even his uncles knights. Not until he was crowned and felt ready to accept such responsibility. Now they were all united under one leader. One man who had inspired so much more than he had recieved credit for. The army of men had rallied behind Aragorn in the end. Not Eomer. He was no king. He was a warrior, bred to fight.

In a brief moment of doubt he even thought Eowyn would have been better suited to rule. She had a temperance he would never possess. A grace and strength in difficult situations that he envied.

But she was a woman. The law did not permit women to rule, and so the responsibility of ruling Rohan fell to the last remaining male-heir of the empire. Though not as large as Gondor, or as large as the kingdom Aragorn would once form – uniting both Gondor and Arnor in peace – it was still enough to bring a sense of terror to his heart. In the silence before the last men of the west stormed the soldiers of Mordor he had the fleeting thought that he should have ensured Eowyn's right to the throne should he fall this day.

The regret stayed with him as he noticed Aragorn. He was a bit away, but still saw the soon-to-be king turn to his friends with a look of complete trust. He looked those closest to him in the eye. His blue eyes swam in unshed tears, and with unshakable faith he raised his sword and stormed forward. At the tip of his army.

What Eomer didn't see was the look he shared with Edmund immediately before his flight. The Just King gazed at the new ruler with as much belief as he could muster. He had so much faith in Aragorn, even if the ranger didn't have much in himself. With a whispered prayer _"For Frodo,"_ he turned and stormed the orcs head on.

Edmund closed his eyes in those seconds and sent a swift pledge to everything he had once stood for, and still did to some extent. "For Narnia," he opened his eyes and began running, one step behind the two hobbits. "_For Aslan_!"

The small army spread out like a flock of birds. He had faced worse odds with Narnians by his side. He had remained strong in the last stages of lost battles. With nothing but faith in the Lion, and the trust in his friends to carry him forward.

He knew how much could be won by will alone. He suddenly realized, as Rhindon crashed against a crude orc-sword, that he knew without a doubt what a few loyal men could accomplish. Where most in _all_ worlds only had their faith, he had _seen_ what pure will could achieve. He had seen men chase down beasts thrice their size for days on end, and kill them simply because there was no other option. He had seen wounded friends pull through fatal injuries simply because they _refused_ to give in. Whipping out the elven blade alongside Rhindon he slashed and cut his way through the horde of enemies. He kept swinging and swinging even after his arms began to ache. Even after a vicious slash ripped open his back and made him cry out.

He guarded his new friends as he would have his old ones, and almost cried in blood-red victory when they guarded him as well. They could never beat the army back. There were simply too many. But maybe, just maybe they could hold them long enough to show that they were not weak. To show the enemy what a few good men could do.

As this thought came and left he heard a terrible boom. His eyes drifted east as the orcs stopped fighting. Men and beasts alike watched the massive volcano in the center of Mordor explode. Red-hot rock blasted out through the wasteland and made the earth shudder. This would be seen for miles around, he knew. People would know that Sauron had fallen. And as this second realization came to him and left as well, he saw the dark tower fall. An evil like the one he had once, a long time ago, come across in another world, fell to the ground in rubble and fear.

The bright eye widened in agony as the ring no doubt vanished in a river of lava. He almost smiled until the next horrible thought struck him. What of Frodo? If the hobbit was anywhere near the exploding mountain he would surely die. He couldn't take his eyes off the violent event to save his life. Not until he saw three eagles appear out of the thin layers of the atmosphere.

Their screams heralded salvation in the midst of chaos. Like angelic choirs, the heavens opened up and sunlight reached the desolate ground. The orcs began running as the ground caved in beneath them. The army held still, and was spared from falling to their deaths as if by magic. Edmund smiled then. The eagles had vanished in the plumes of black smoke, and the sky seemed to be roaring with victory. They had won. His leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He felt the sky open and sunlight hit his face.

Victory. Relief. Sadness. Love.

All these feelings vibrated through him with every heartbeat. They had _won_. When he opened his eyes he found Gandalf standing in front of him with relief on his face as well. The old wizard then did something unexpected. He bowed to the strange king. He kneeled in the bloodied mud with his staff before him. He kneeled to Edmund out of reverence and love.

Edmund couldn't find his voice and numbly stepped forward to assist the man to his feet once again. As he stood, he placed a hand on his shoulder just as Edmund had his. Gandalf gently pulled the young king close and allowed the white folds of his gown to close around them. Only those closest to the two saw the tender moment, as the most powerful magician of his time embraced a boy with the heart of kings. A boy, born as a servant of his society, turned king and leader of a country.

The only regret in Gandalf's heart was that the other three siblings were not there to share the moment. He vowed he would show his appreciation for all they had sacrificed before his journey was done. Before Eru called him home.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the hobbits all saw the pride in Gandalf's eyes as he proclaimed his allegiance to the King of Narnia. And though the moment was short-lived, it would not be forgotten. In the minds of every Gondorian that moment would live until the end of days.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I got over my melancholy when I once again realized I'd begun the sequel to Last Guardians. Another long one so I won't get bored on those slow, summerdays. Hoped you enjoyed this one and didn't find it too sappy. In any case, let me know.


	50. Chapter 50: Silent Hall

**Disclaimer:** My very presence here excludes the posibility of ownership.

**Author's Note:** To the Cretin: Of course you can. Go view.

To all: This might be the shortest one yet (she said BEFORE she re-read and got the word count above 1000). I'm trying to get the last five (you heard right) _five_ chapters to my beta, but she's attending Roskilde festival. Everyone who knows what Roskilde is, raise your hands and go 'wooooo'! For the rest of you, looking at the people around you going 'wooooo', that's a pretty accurate embodyment of what Roskilde looks like, only with more beer and mud.

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><p>Chapter 50 – Silent Hall<p>

Susan awoke as predicted, two days later, in a fit of screams and heartbreaking cries. Frodo and Sam had been returned unconscious, and only just awoken the day before. They were still healing from their ordeal and Gandalf and Pippin never left their sides. The people of Minas Tirith had begun cleaning the city and burning their dead. Aragorn had been acknowledged as future king of Gondor, and was scheduled for his coronation the very next day. With that acknowledgement came a slew of responsibilities. That left the remainder of the Fellowship, along with Eomer and Eowyn, who were waiting outside the doors.

Edmund had joined in guarding his suffering sister along with Lucy and Peter, though _he_ was being guarded as well. He had sustained a nasty injury during the battle, and had not even felt the pain until they were almost home at the castle.

Everyone heard the screams from the other side of the door when Susan first awoke. Everyone heard the weeping and almost wept as well. For three days the silent guardians never left her their place in the hall.

On the fourth day they received two visitors. Aragorn accompanied Faramir to see the boys who had saved his city. The fellow rangers had spoken with each other about the death of Denethor, the fall of Mordor, and the true identities of the siblings. Faramir learned about Queen Lucy and her sister's plight. He learned the proper titles of the kings.

Days passed where Faramir spent long, silent hours outside Susan's door along with the others. Everyone waited patiently until one afternoon when King Peter entered the hall. This was the first time in three days he been out of the room. When he entered the hall he stopped in surprise. Legolas was the first to look up and meet his eyes. Peter stood a few seconds in shock as he recognized the faces that greeted him. Eomer was holding his sister. Merry was sitting on the floor beside Gimli and the elf. He took a deep breath when a tear dislodged from his eye, and smiled. "Hullo." He was so tired and the simple greeting was all he could muster.

A few of them smiled back. He distantly recognized Faramir and nodded at him in greeting. The former heir to the throne returned it reverently. "I heard what you did for my city," he said slowly. He looked pale, and far from healed. And yet he was sitting with the others, waiting for someone he had never met to wake up. "Thank you." he whispered.

Peter's smile widened as two more tears rolled from his eyes. Suddenly pretenses felt so insignificant. They had all seen each other tired. They had all seen each other hurt. So with a deep sigh the high king relinquished his pride and fell back against the closed door. He leaned against it only in the sense that it helped him sink to the floor. When his bottom hit the cold tiles Merry, Aslan bless him, jumped out of his seat and embraced the king. Peter had never felt as grateful for anyone as he did the hobbit at that moment. Someone so small with such big hearts. A tear rolled down his cheek. He was _so_ tired.

"Is she better?" the hobbit asked in a whisper.

Peter let out a quick sob and nodded. His arms circled the tiny back and refused to let go. "Better." he choked out. Merry let him hang on until Peter could again calm himself. He took a few deep breaths and gained strenuous control over his emotions. It wouldn't last he knew, but for now it would have to be enough.

Legolas and Eomer rose as he gathered himself, and offered him a hand. He was helped back to his feet and saw to his relief that his friends also had tears in their eyes. It was a relief to know he wasn't alone in his worry and love. Once again he thanked Aslan for letting him meet these strong and loyal people. Some he knew well. Some he hardly knew at all and others would forever remain a mystery to him. People who had blessed him in ways he never could have imagined.

"Much better."

The door opened behind them to Edmund. He saw the tears in Peter's eyes and in their friends'. His back was slightly hunched from the recent injury, but he carried himself well despite that. He looked up at his brother with those brown, almost black, eyes. Eyes that could see into the soul of a man. Never before had Peter felt so grateful for those eyes.

Without a word the Just King surged forward and pulled his brother into a hug. It felt so familiar. The complete absence of words. Only the knowledge of what the other needed and the joy that he could offer it. "She's speaking again." he said when he released his brother. He looked up to see love beaming from the faces all around him, and smiled. "She's speaking again." he repeated, just to ensure himself. Peter's smile was brilliant in the dusty light of day.

"And Queen Lucy?" Gimli asked in that gruff way of his.

Edmund smiled. "She's helping her dress." He nodded, to once again reassure himself. "They'll be out for supper. I thought it would be nice if we ate together?" He looked at his brother for confirmation.

Peter smiled and nodded. "We shall."

"I'll ask Aragorn." Eomer said with a stiff nod. Peter looked at him as he left and saw him lift an arm. No doubt to wipe away a tear. It struck him how easily these hardened warriors had taken to his sister, all his siblings, and his heart broke all over again.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> A lot of love and elizabethan, romatic, overflowing emotions in this one. Can't really say the next one will be any different. :)


	51. Chapter 51: The Color of Lemons

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, but my shoes.

**Author's Note:** Well as usual my computer decided to delete the chapter I had just edited before I could save it, so this is the second attempt at editing and posting. Guess my friend is right - computers are possessed. *sighs* At least I know _you're_ all faithful. Thank you to all. My little snowflakes.

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><p>Chapter 51 – The Color of Lemons<p>

When she awoke she felt nothing. For a few seconds she could hardly remember where she was. Then she remembered the war. Her friends. Her beautiful horse and the way it had screamed in death. It was hardly two seconds for anyone else, but for her it felt like a lifetime. Every time she woke Lucy would be by her side with soothing words and a gentle caress. Sometimes Peter and Edmund would be there as well, but the one she remembered most vividly was Lucy.

And she would weep. Tears would gather in her eyes as she remembered the horrors she had seen and she would curl in on herself as they assaulted her. Time passed in a blur until one morning when she woke up without the familiar sense of disorientation. She woke up, knowing exactly where she was. What had happened. Only this time she felt tired. Too tired to cry. She had half a mind to go back to sleep, but a cool hand on her forehead brought her about.

"Hello, sister." Lucy was smiling down at her. She turned as a soft snore interrupted the silence and found Edmund sleeping on his stomach on her left. "He was so tired." she explained.

Susan strained to smile or do anything other than stare.

"Do you remember what happened?"

She nodded and was helped to sit. As soon as she moved she felt a pang through her right leg. She suddenly couldn't remember what had happened and flipped the sheet aside to check. Lucy lifted her sweaty nightgown and revealed a pale thigh, flushed, with white bandages around it. Susan touched the fabric and carefully began removing it. It was throbbing. At first Lucy made a move to stop her, but suddenly changed her mind. She helped her sister remove the dressings and decided she might as well clean the wound now that it was visible.

"The dragon did that?" Susan asked quietly.

Her voice sounded so small. Lucy looked up in surprise. She had never heard her sister so fragile. "Yes." She drew a deep breath and tried to gather enough courage to ask what she really wanted to know. "Did you jump in front of me on purpose?"

Susan looked up and tried to remember. She honestly couldn't. It had all happened so fast. Nimzülae had moved out of instinct. But not self-preservation. An instinct to protect her rider. "I think Nimzülae did." She wanted to claim credit, but it didn't feel right when the horse had obviously had more presence of mind than she at that moment.

"How much of the past week _do_ you remember?" Lucy was dabbing the wounds in a numbing gel. Something made from a plant. She couldn't remember the name, but it helped numb the area before she had to clean it out.

"I remember everything until the battle." Susan unconsciously moved to touch the bite marks, but stopped when she feared of getting in her sister's way.

"Nothing since?" She had taken out a disinfectant made from urine. It smelled awful, but the healers swore up and down that it worked marvels. She now only hoped the numbing gel had done its job.

Susan hissed when the paste slid into her open wounds. "No. Nothing after she died."

Lucy tried to ignore the discomfort she was causing her sister and focused solely at the wound. "That's pretty normal. It could be the blood loss or it could have been the shock of things." She urged Susan to turn over so she could dab the last wound. Two of them were round puncture wounds while the third came from an incisor that had ripped a tear down the side of her thigh. It had been stitched.

"Where is Peter?"

Lucy glanced up and pointed to a curtain that separated one side of the room from the other. "Sleeping. I told him to get some rest."

The oldest sister looked at the curtain that held one sleeping brother before she looked back down at the other. His dark hair stood out against his pale face a little more than usual. "Is he alright?" she whispered and ran a hand through Edmund's black waves. It was getting long.

"He was cut on his back after you were injured. Aragorn carried him back here after he collapsed half way," Lucy looked at him as well. "I was so afraid his spine had been damaged."

"Is it?" Susan felt her heart thud painfully.

"No. Aslan was at his back. He'll be fine." She smiled.

Susan didn't mean to, but she huffed at the mention of Aslan. "How can you still have faith?"

Lucy looked in her eyes a moment. She sensed Ssan was asking about more than just the recent events. That she was asking about all of it. "You mean after seeing the things I've seen?"

Susan nodded and moved compliantly when Lucy began re-wrapping the wounds.

"It's kind of like a tunnel," she explained with her sea-green eyes on the work she was doing. "At first you think everything is normal because that's what you're used to. Then you start moving forward and everything gets really dark," Her voice almost pulled Susan into a trance. "Then you reach the end and see the light there is much brighter than the one _before_ the darkness. And you wonder why it took you so long to get there." She looked up and smiled when she took in her sister's expression. "I'm sorry. That sounds like complete nonsense."

"No," her sister whispered. "No, it sounds very nice." She sniffed and sat back.

Lucy gently pushed a pillow under her legs and took a moment to look her over. "You're in the darkest part of the tunnel right now, sister." She reached up and caressed her cheek before slid the covers up. Someone had brought a tureen of soup up for all four. It had a little candle beneath it and was still warm when she served it to her sister. "You'll see the brighter parts soon." She smiled and spoon-fed her as much of the soup as she could handle. Not long after eating, Susan fell asleep again.

The next day the Gentle Queen awoke to a brother instead of a sister. "Peter?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he still heard her. He had been sitting in a chair by her side and moved over when she spoke. His hand naturally ran over her forehead and through her hair. It was such a familiar touch.

"How do you feel, darling?" he whispered.

Susan looked to her left and saw Edmund had been moved. "How long did I sleep?" Time had begun to blur and she was having trouble keeping track.

"About a day and a half." He was still whispering.

When she tried to sit he quickly reached down and helped her. She looked up and saw Edmund and Lucy sleeping in the bed behind the half-closed divider. She suspected one of them had kept constant watch while the others slept. "How is Edmund?" She remembered Lucy telling her about his back.

"Healing exceptionally well," He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just like you."

"I thought I heard him dream the other night," She vaguely remembered his sleeping form beside hers, twitching and whimpering under the throes of a nightmare. He had looked so tiny.

"He's dealing with the shock of things," Peter tried again to smile and almost made it to his eyes this time. "He'll be fine. How about you?" Though he didn't say it, she knew he didn't believe his own reassurances.

She just didn't have the energy to call him on it either. "Tired all the time."

He nodded. "You've been sleeping quite a lot because of the wound. I think we need to get you out of here if you're going to get better." The doors hadn't been opened for almost five days.

Susan didn't know, and wondered how long he had been trapped in that room with her. "I think I'd like that." she said and tried to shift her legs over the side of the bed.

He instantly began ushering her back into it. "I didn't mean _now_-"

"Peter, you're right. The more I sleep the more tired I'll feel." Her voice never rose above a whisper. "I want to go out. I miss the sun," she pleaded when he was about to forcefully roll her back in bed. Though they whispered, they still managed to wake one of their slumbering siblings.

The commotion stirred Lucy. Her chirping voice sounded a little grainy with sleep, but she was quickly out of bed. "What's wrong?" She almost stumbled on her way over, but hardly noticed.

Susan tried to smile and push Peter out of her way. "I feel better and Peter suggested a walk would do me good-"

"I did no such thing." he interjected quietly when Lucy glared at him.

"And I'm really bored." Susan finished before either of them could argue. "Please? Help me wash up and change?" She reached out for her sister and knew it would work. Lucy's eyes softened and she squeezed Susan's hand. Sharing a defeated look, they helped her stand. The two of them led her to a washing chamber before Peter was asked to leave. "What do I do with Edmund?" he asked.

Lucy glanced into the bedroom and saw their brother was completely unconscious. "Let him sleep. His back is doing better but this whole ordeal hasn't been easy on him."

The eldest Pevensie brother nodded and left the room quietly. Lucy helped her sister undress and keep the wounds dry while she ladled warm water over her head. It was the first time she could claim to have helped her sister bathe. She knew her gentle queen had often helped her when she was sick and wanted her family close. Usually when they were all younger, but never in all her life had Lucy been the one to sit with Susan. It occured to her that Susan had never been sick in Narnia, and rarely in England. The occasional cold, but never anything that required long-term bedrest. She wondered if perhaps her sister was stronger than all of them combined.

Her leg was raised over the edge of the large basin, an extremely difficult feat since the edge was rather tall and the water rather deep.

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><p>Edmund awoke to the sound of sloshing water. His face scrunched up in a frown when his back stung painfully. The almost vertical wound was shallow, but still very delicate. He could feel the bandages that were wrapped around his entire torso.<p>

He had successfully pushed to his knees when his sisters' voices floated in from the other room. He froze when Susan asked a question. Her voice sounded so small. Still gentle and a little tentative like it had always been, but only more so. Weak. Drained. He saddened to think she would lose a part of herself, but quickly convinced himself that Aslan would never let that happen. _Forget Aslan, __I'll__ never let that happen_. He pushed out of the bed and lifted his shirt to his nose. It smelled awful, but he couldn't see any clean clothes in the room.

As silently as he could, he got up and opened the door. Beyond it he found his brother. With him were most of the Fellowship members. All of them looked sad and relieved at the sight of him. His eyes slid to his brother's. Peter smiled tiredly at him.

Edmund instantly felt the same exhaustion. Just looking at his regal brother had always revealed more than enough for him to council and guide. Peter and Lucy were the same. They felt everything much too strongly to bury it. Susan and he were much better at handling their emotions. Well he was, since Susan was predisposed to hormonal outbursts and unnecessary motherin, being a woman. Not that he would _ever_ tell her that.

His shoulders slumped when he felt the weight of the past days lift. In an instant he felt like a toddler again, and needed the comfort of caring arms around him. He practically threw himself into his brother's arms and drew a deep breath. His brother had a certain smell. A scent that was only his. That indefinable Peter-smell. He smiled into the shoulder of his brother's tunic and pulled back.

His brother was smiling slightly as well. Only enough for someone who really knew him to notice. It was a smile that was meant only for those he loved, and Edmund's heart soared in the knowledge he was one of those people. "She's speaking again." he said when he remembered the conversation he'd overheard between his sisters. Peter's smile widened marginally as if he knew. "She's speaking again." he repeated just to her the words.

"And Queen Lucy?" Gimli asked from his perch on a low bench. He was gently holding his axe and something infinitely soft had slipped over his face since the last time Edmund saw him.

"She's helping her dress." It felt so good to speak those words. To know both his sisters were there. He looked up at Peter. His family. "They'll be out for supper. I thought it would be nice if we all ate together?" His eyes scanned every twitch his brother made.

"We shall."

The smile that lit up his face and the soft touch of Peter's hands on his shoulders made every worry he'd felt vanish. How his brother managed to exude such calm he would never know.

"I'll ask Aragorn." Eomer said and left.

Edmund couldn't take his eyes off his big brother. With a generous arm from Legolas the two, young kings were invited to join. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" the elf asked.

Edmund couldn't remember and silently hoped his brother would answer for them. "A while." His soft voice was like a trickle of water between the stone walls. Edmund smiled when his arm tightened around his shoulders a second. With a silly smile he let his brother guide them both down the hall.

In the main hall sat old friends. Aragorn sat next to a woman more beautiful than any Edmund had seen before. She was tall. A little taller than peter. Her hair was black, almost blue, and flowed loosely down her back. Next to her sat a man of the same stature. His hair was pulled back and showed two, pointy ears. Across from them sat Gandalf with Frodo and Sam nestled between himself and Pippin. The red-headed hobbit was in the process of pouring food onto Frodo's plate when the brothers and their little group entered.

"Friends." Aragorn rolled out of his seat and moved to embrace Peter like a brother.

His arm lingered a second around Edmund's shoulder before he let go hug the ranger. After Peter, Aragorn gently put his hands on Edmund's shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. "Never in my years had I hoped to witness such valor." His voice shook with emotion and Edmund could feel his own body responding to it.

His face heated and his eyes watered as he stared back at Aragorn. "What happened?" Frodo asked from his perch. The flash of recognition when he saw Edmund both warmed and worried the king a little. Would he remember how coolly he had threatened the son of Gondor, or would he remember how he had ordered his brother around? To his relief Frodo seemed to remember neither and only looked at him with kindness when the two crossed glances.

"Mr. Baggins." He offered a quick nod and winced when his back-wound pulled. He didn't think anybody noticed. Peter did.

"Your brother saved my life." Aragorn said to Peter, who too wondered about Aragorn's address. "Had it not been for him, I would not stand here now." Edmund noticed his lightning quick glance at the tall woman before he once again looked to Peter and then Edmund. "Thank you."

The eldest Pevensie looked at his younger brother with a strange mix of wonder and chastisement. Edmund shrunk under the flash of sorrow that shot through his brother's eyes. He hoped a change of conversation would go over smoothly, and so said: "Our sisters are on their way. They should be here soon."

Aragorn's expression became, if possible, even more loving. "I should have gone to her. How is she?" Both brothers knew about his coronation and the celebration that had been held for the victorious hobbits the day before. Edmund remembered how overwhelming it felt to suddenly have the responsibility of kinghood on one's shoulders.

Peter decided his brother had had enough exercise for one day and gently guided him to the table where the others were eating. "She's shaken, but should recover completely."

Edmund noticed the courtly tone of speech, but doubted it was animosity. More likely it was a desire to spare his sister from judgment. "I've missed her so," the tall lady said. Her voice was so soft that one hardly dared to touch her in fear she would crumble.

"Peter, Edmund, may I present to you Lady Arwen Undómiel and her father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell." His smile could have melted an iceberg. "Arwen and I are betrothed."

She smiled prettily at the tall ranger before she looked at Peter and Edmund. "Pleasure to meet you both,"

On her side Elrond chuckled softly and came to a stand. He moved over to Peter's side and grasped his hand. "Forgive my daughter. She is young and in love."

Peter shifted and allowed the elf lord to shake hands with his brother as well. Edmund sent the elf a smile as if they were both exactly aware how adorable young lovers were. It made Peter huff, and blush profusely afterwards when Elrond looked at him strangely. "I'm sorry." He quickly reached out and hid his blush behind a drink of wine.

Across from them Gandalf chuckled softly and shared a look of complete understanding with Frodo. Sam seemed oblivious to anything but the food and Pippin was staring at all of them, trying to understand exactly why it was so funny. Then he seemed to settle it with himself and returned to his mushrooms.

Edmund chuckled as Elrond sat back down. Another table was brought in by Legolas and Eomer. They placed it in extension of the other one and all sat down. Eowyn sat betweem her brother and Faramir. Legolas and Gimli had smoothly saved two seats for the queens in between themselves and the brothers.

It was only then Aragorn realized his space had been taken. Pippin instantly spoke up and began nudging Sam to move over. "Strider, _oo_ver here."

The ranger smiled and even looked a little relieved, which Edmund couldn't understand until Gandalf spoke next. "You should not address your king so casually." He was smiling into his plate, and drew a confident smile from Frodo, but anyone who only heard his voice would have been put to shame.

Not Pippin though. "Well it's his _oo_wn fault. Shouldn't have introduced himself that way then." He smirked and stuffed a forkful of mushrooms into his mouth. Aragorn laughed happily, but suddenly stopped with a wide-eyed look at something behind the brothers.

All turned to see Lucy assisting her sister into the room. Susan was limping slightly, but bore it without grimacing. Edmund and Peter shot out of their chairs and ignored the reassurance from both girls that they were alright. In a fluent move Peter lifted Susan into his arms and carried her to the seat reserved for her. Edmund flashed his younger sister a smirk before he extended an arm and walked her to her seat. As Peter sat down his scowling sister and gave her a kiss on the head, he slid in and deposited Lucy by her side. In passing he hissed at his brother. "Showoff!"

Peter just smirked in his brother's wake. Gandalf caught Peter's eye across the table and smiled knowingly at him. Smiles erupted on most of the dining guests. The light glow from the children was as infectious as laughter. It wouldn't be long until Lucy ignited said glow with a great giggle of her own. It was just after Gimli said something terribly funny that made Susan snort a sip of wine, and made Lucy erupt in a great explosion of laughter.

As we can all imagine it was not long until the entire table was laughing. The joy of that night closely mirrored one many nights previous. Though the sorrow was still close, the people different, and their bodies weary, the joy was as tangible as it had been then. It still sounded like laughter and music, and it still smelled like fresh citrus flowers on a wild autumn wind.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Second try was successfull. I saved it before uploading. Hope you enjoy.


	52. Chapter 52: Of Time and Stars

**Disclaimer:** ...Well. Shoes and laptop, but that's only because it can't run away from me :P

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the awe inspiring reviews you handed in these past chapters. Minirowan, The Cretin and LammySelfCj. Thank you for you support and your love for this story. If I make even one person cry I'll reached perfection. *Looks around. Waits for someone to cry. No one does* Aww, really?

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><p>Chapter 52 – Of Time and Stars<p>

"You look weary, my friend." Gandalf said as he sat beside Frodo on one of the many plush couches. Conversation and merriment was taking place all around them and yet the two looked somber.

The hobbit was staring at the talking and laughing party guests. Sam was drinking with Gimli, and Merry and Pippin had both found tall, Gondorian women to dance with, but neither knew the dances of Gondor. Aragorn was sitting with Arwen and Faramir. Eowyn was sitting with the son of the former steward and trying to speak with him, but her brother kept interrupting. The hobbit, who undoubtedly saved the world, scanned the crowds for any signs of Queen Susan.

"You worry about her?" the wizard asked.

Frodo didn't flinch or frown at the insightful query. Instead he looked up softly and smiled. "I wonder if she'll be alright."

"Time heals most wounds, dear one." Gandalf sat back and pulled out his pipe. Though he would never admit it, Saruman's words still haunted him. Perhaps the pipe-leaf _had_ dulled his mind over the years. And if that was true, what other truths had the wizard unknowingly divulged. The spiteful tone of a friend he once loved would never stop replaying in his mind.

"What about those Time cannot heal?" Frodo asked with his infinitely blue eyes on the crowd. He had found Lucy. She was speaking with King Edmund in a corner. The two looked like they were enjoying themselves.

"Sometimes the mind forgets," he answered slowly.

Frodo snapped back to the conversation and looked pleadingly at the wizard. "I don't think I ever will."

He nodded and puffed out a little smoke. "I too fear this is something I will always remember." He looked lover the crowds and spotted the two, youngest royals as well. "In my long years I have come to realize what a blessing it truly is, to forget." He looked at the two children as they laughed and teased each other. It looked as though the king was in the process of tickling his sister. Her laughter certainly infected most of those around them. Even Gandalf chuckled a little.

"I hear Lord Elrond has left?"

Gandalf nodded. "For a western harbor. He'll wait there till I can join him."

Frodo looked up. "Where is he sailing?"

"To the undying lands," Unknowingly he at that moment sparked a desire in Frodo, to follow in the elf's footsteps. But it was as of yet still unknown.

Frodo turned back to watch the crowds, though his eyes saw nothing anymore. The pause in conversation became intense when he felt Gandalf's stare on him. And so he shifted and thought of a question that would push the real one back. "Have you spoken with the brothers?"

Gandalf frowned. He looked almost like he was watching the sunset and not like a guest of honor at a magnificent ball. "The youngest, yes. He mentioned Narnia."

"What did he say?" He looked at the wizard.

"He spoke of deep forests, filled with wonders." He sighed. "Much like I imagine the world after this one."

Frodo blinked slowly and turned back to the crowd. "I hope it's peaceful."

The old heart of the wizard broke to hear such weariness from the mouth of such a young man. "For you I think the trees themselves would bow down."

Frodo looked up at him with water enlarging his eyes. "As would they for you,"

"Mm." Gandalf growled.

"You doubt your worth?" Frodo asked with an incredulous smile. "If anyone is deserving, it is you, old friend."

Gandalf made the same contemplating 'hm' and puffed his pipe. "I had my moments of doubt."

Frodo sobered and sagged a little. "As did we all."

On a sudden thought Gandalf pointed his pipe at the queen. "On our journey together, the young queen told me that everyone must have a purpose." He sat back and let Frodo mull it over.

"I think mine has passed."

"The same as I," He glanced down with a smile. "Time does seem to be slowing down, does it not? Such a cruel trick of nature. To take time from us when we most need it, and to drag it out when there's not enough to busy the mind."

In his mind, Frodo felt ready for death. For passing onto wherever he could. Somewhere peaceful. "Cruel indeed."

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><p>"How's your leg?"<p>

Susan jumped slightly at the interruption and made Legolas smile.

She was leaning against the half wall around the King's Platform. "Better. I can put weight on it again." A hunter's moon was rising in the east.

"Soon you'll be ready for more adventures." He smiled, but saddened when she suddenly did as well. "Was it something I said?"

She shook her head with a quick smile. "The troubles of a weary mind." she mumbled into the night.

"You sound like Gandalf." He grinned and tricked one out of her. "Will you not tell me what bothers you?"

"Adventure," she sighed. "Adventure bothers me. I fear I'll never have another."

"You are not tired then?" He leaned on the wall beside her and studied the way the stars sparkled in her eyes. The way her hair closely resembled the darkness around the moon.

"My body is. I need the rest, but I don't want to rest forever."

"Then there is an obvious solution." She looked at him. "You should stay."

She smiled, but her eyes saddened. "If only that was possible."

He frowned when a shiver of cold snuck into his heart. Only very rarely did elves feel cold and never because of the weather. "Surely…."

She looked at him with tears lining her eyes.

"Surely you _could_ should you want to?"

"I couldn't before."

He saddened immensely at her despondent tone. "But that was different," he offered weakly. She had told him of the second time she had left her home. How her Lion had said she could never come back. A part of him ached, thinking about her torments. About an endless life without her.

"No it wasn't." A tear raced down her cheek. Another was about to fall when she reached up and cupped his face. Her eyes were so close it was as if staring into a mirror. With a deep breath she leaned forward and placed a kiss lighter than snowflakes on his lips. When she pulled back he was left in shock. He could not think nor move. Her cold hands on his face were like irrepressible forces, holding him near her. When she pulled far enough away that he could see her eyes again he found more tears. In his own as well.

He felt hollow as one tear traced a line down his cheek and trembled as it crossed her pale fingers. The silence of the moment was so profound that they heard the drop hit the stone-floor. The sounds of the ball faded until there were only their tears and the way the stars sparkled in her eyes. He let his sorrow claim him fully and leaned down to kiss her again, but she moved.

Her face came to rest against his shoulder and a sob tore through her. With deep breaths he leaned against her as well. What a cruel thing to put them through. A cruel god. In that moment he hated Eru for making him feel. For cursing him and blessing him with such strong emotions. Though hardly any of them showed at that moment, Susan seemed to know.

She pulled free of their embrace and ran back towards the grand hall with a scattered _"I'm sorry,"_ in departure.

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><p>While Susan fretted over what the morning would bring, Peter went looking for her. He only found Gandalf standing along the wall, still smoking his pipe. A sea of colorful dresses, worn by pretty ladies while their escorts catered to them, hoping for a chance to impress. The music was slow and quiet, but suddenly, in the middle of it all and with absolutely no cause, Lucy laughed. He watched his brother pick her up around the stomach and twirl her around. "I hear it was a lovely ceremony."<p>

Gandalf looked up at him and smiled. "We were sad to see you miss it, but it could not wait."

"Doesn't matter. As long as he's happy." The 'he' he was referring to was of course Aragorn. The wedding between the Dunedain and the elf lady, Arwen had taken place a week before. Since then there had been parties every night. This one was the saddest in a long line of them. It was in farewell to the hobbits as they were leaving the next day. "Have you seen my sister?"

Gandalf pointed to the hall where Lucy had been deposited back to the floor and was smiling at her brother as he bowed to her. He was inviting her to dance without music. Peter watched them start to dance with Edmund humming an almost familiar song. He shook his head. "Susan."

"Ah. No." he whispered. It was a wonder Peter heard him through the loud conversations. He only had eyes for his siblings. They were like the only diamonds in a coalmine. Twirling around the dance floor with only the music _they_ created.

The young king leaned against the wall next to Gandalf. "I wonder where she could have gone,"

"Do you worry about her still?"

"It's only been a week and a half," He glanced up and saw Gandalf's raised brow. "Yes. I worry."

"She'll heal. She already is."

"It's my job to worry." He watched Edmund swing their youngest sister around by just their pinkies. They were both humming now. More people were watching in silence. "I worry about them all."

"It's a heavy burden to bear." His expression became something akin to distress. "I hear your brother has nightmares."

Peter darted his hawk-eyes to the old man and studied him a moment. How did he know? They hadn't told anyone. "He does."

"Might I ask what he dreams about?"

Peter sighed and sagged a little. He had to remind himself he wasn't king. No one was looking to him for a smile. "He dreams about burning alive." _Wakes up screaming_. It was strange to Peter how he now felt. At the beginning of their royal reign he had constantly reminded himself that he was being watched. Now he had to remind himself that no one was watching.

"After Denethor," Gandalf deduced.

"He's had them before." The wizard looked surprised. "Back in Narnia, during the greatest war of our reign," A Calormene army. "Something happened-" The desert. He stopped himself, for he too had memories of subjects burning before his very eyes. His brother burning for crimes he hadn't committed.

For the first time in his life Gandalf felt fundamentally unsure. "I'm sure your god will heal him?"

"He's not just _our_ god."

"Oh?"

"He's our king, and _yours_."

Gandalf pouted mildly. "I have only Eru-"

"They're one and the same." Peter bit out. He was starting to feel weary with all the questions. With the party in general and his worry for Susan. With a deep sigh he turned to face the wizard head on. "Don't you know that yet?" He looked honestly confounded. "Aslan put us here. Eru- whatever he's called, whoever calls it."

The wizard stared at the boy with a frown. The tone was not one he was used to, nor was it one he felt he deserved. But a small voice inside him felt there was a point to it. He looked back at Lucy as she was twirled around the dance floor in slow circles by her brother. They had now enthralled most of the guests. "I never doubted your gifts. Nor your sisters'. Everything is see when I look at either of you, is only truth."

"So how come you can't believe in Aslan?"

Something about the old man saddened so profoundly that Peter felt guilty about raising his voice. "Because I've never _seen_ Him."

"Then maybe you're not _looking_." he said as emphatically as he could. He held Gandalf's eyes a moment. It did not escape him how his wors were exact copies of Lucy's, several years ago. Without another word, he turned and left the wizard to his own devices. He had a sister to find.

But found she was not. That night Susan Pevensie locked herself away in the chamber she shared with Lucy. When the youngest sister arrived it was nearing dawn and Susan was sound asleep with all signs of sadness washed from her face. Neither she, nor the elf spoke of that night ever again.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So we hear a little about Ed's nightmares. We get a kiss! which I'm sure made some of you squeal. And also we get some things, we already know, into the open. Now the real question is: Will Aslan ever appear?


	53. Chapter 53: The River

**Diclaimer:** Tolkien and Lewis both wrote great works of art, out of envy for the Greeks with their deities and the Scandinavians with their Norse gods, but also in the hopes of creating a mythological base for all who haled from Great Britain. I can never duplicate, only hope to honor those works of art and do my very best to create my own little world where people can escape to for a time.

**Author's Note:** This is not the end. Keep that in mind as you read this chapter.

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><p>Chapter 53 – The River<p>

The next morning Edmund rose with the sun. He had awoken during the night in the throes of a nightmare. The horrid memories of his life's suffering were slowly returning to him. Not just the ones from England, not just those from Narnia. All of them. In dreams they assaulted him as their owners had the first times around. And he was getting tired. He felt grey. Washed out. It felt as though something inside him had changed. Something that should have been visible to the rest of the world, but that to his surprise was only visible to him.

That morning he was up with the kitchen staff. A pretty girl smiled at him as she crossed his path on the way to her duties. Edmund smirked back. It baffled him, this change he felt. He didn't fell sad or depressed. Not all the time. It would come in little moments where his entire life snuck up on him and wore him out. Peter and he had discussed it during the night. The older brother admitted that he too felt tired. Tired of life in a sense. The conversation had stopped then and not been pursued. Each had fallen asleep with tired minds and empty hearts.

That morning, as he reached the platform, he noticed the white tree for the first time. He had seen it before, but never taken any real notice of it. It was a tree. A dead tree. He didn't think it warranted his attention, but as he approached it he realized why it was drawing him in now. There, on the skinniest of branches at the very top, closest to the sun, a little, pink bud was beginning to blossom. He stood in its spidery shadow and squinted into the blue sky until a voice called him.

"Edmund?" He looked down and smiled as Aragorn came out to greet him. "You're up early, friend." The kings greeted each other with smiles before Edmund was ushered away.

"Aragorn. What has you out of bed at his hour? And more importantly what does your lady think of it?" Had he been a little shyer Edmund would have blushed at his own words. As it were he only smiled and tried not to be blinded by the sun.

Aragorn smiled through a blush. "The hobbits leave for the Shire today. I wanted to ask if they would join me for breakfast."

"Are we invited?" he asked cheekily.

"Of course!" Aragorn announced with all the flourish he possessed. "Will you help me wake everyone?"

"As long as I don't get Gimli," he was quick to ad.

"I accept those terms." They shook hands. "I will meet you here?" He gestured to the terrace. "In one hour?"

"Agreed," He smirked and took off the get his brother first. Peter was easy enough to wake. The oh so magnificent brother was a light sleeper and usually woke at the crack of dawn. Always with a sunny disposition. The real trouble was the girls. Lucy was a light sleeper like her fair, older brother, but Susan could out-sleep a hurricane.

After waking Peter they parted. The Just went to rouse their sisters while the High King went to get Eomer. An hour passed and time found them all gathered under the rising sun on the King's Platform. A lovely spread was brought out with the help of the queens and Eowyn. Even Faramir had meekly accepted Aragorn's invitation to dine with them.

An hour passed in joyful company and with fine food. But as the meal came to a slow end a strange mood fell over the gathered. It was a moment where each of them, having fallen into their own minds, suddenly noticed the flavor in the air and the color of the sky. The conversation, which had until then flowed effortlessly, changed to something somber.

"We're leaving today," Pippin muttered into his food. It was the first time Susan could remember that he did not eat until there was nothing left.

"You'll come back though?" Lucy asked with a cup half raised to her mouth. She had stopped her drink before Pippin spoke to think about something, but now the thought eluded her. The entire company looked at the red-head hobbit, awaiting his answer.

But all he did was look to Frodo. The blue-eyed hobbit quickly smiled. "Of course." The mood lightened, but there was still something indescribable in the air.

Lucy couldn't put her finger on it until suddenly a melody came to mind. It was the echo of a song she had not heard in years. "The River," she muttered.

Edmund understood instantly and glared over the edge of his cup. Everyone else looked at her questioningly.

But Lucy hardly noticed her brother's withering stare. She smiled, relishing the chance to explain. "The River. It's a dance."

"The one you danced last night?" Arwen asked cautiously. She looked between Lucy and Edmund.

The youngest sister smiled. "No. Not quite. Last night was just dancing. The River is a story."

When they still looked wondrous Peter stepped in. "It's a story of the first rainstorm in Narnia. It tells of the son of a river god and a wind-spirit named Alia that fell in love." Peter was beginning to remember what his sister did as well. "The fair maiden, Alia, fell in love with the river god's son who then asked his father if she could join their court."

"But the river god said no." Lucy interjected. "Because water and air could never live together."

"But the love they had for each other was so great that they began courting anyway," Peter continued. "They would meet every night and dance together."

"Until one night when they danced so madly that the water was pulled into the air." Lucy said with a smile. She glanced at her brother, who didn't seem to mind the constant interruptions. "So as they were dancing the river god's son declared his love for Alia and said he would come with her, even if it meant he would never stop moving."

"Then what happened?" Gimli asked. Quite to the surprise of the rest of the company, he was completely engrossed in the tale.

"Alia spun faster and faster until she lifted him from the riverbed, and the two left the river god's home as a great raincloud."

Susan suddenly giggled in delight. "I remember that story. We used to dance in the rain because of it." Her smile lit up the table and shone with the sun.

"And every wind-spirit we met we would ask them if their name was Alia." Lucy remembered as well with a giggle.

"None of them ever were, of course." Peter added at Aragorn's happily questioning expression.

"Childish fairy tales," Edmund muttered under his breath, to the great umbrage of Lucy.

"_You_ used to dance it with me every summer!" she accused, giggling. "I still remember how much you pretended to hate it, but you were always smiling near the end."

"No one could dance it as well as you two." Peter mumbled through a sip of tea. Lucy and he shared a laugh when Edmund groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Will you not show us?" Eowyn begged with her wide eyes on each Pevensie.

Edmund practically shrunk into his seat with nothing to say. Lucy's smile widened a thousand fold. "Oh yes, please!"

"No."

"Edmund." his three siblings chorused. Each with their own tone. One sounded incredulous, another exasperated, and the third hurt. You can all guess which belonged to which sibling.

He growled and pretended to watch the view. He even tried to start up conversation with Gandalf, but failed miserably when Lucy next uttered these words. "Oh, Edmund, please." Her voice left little doubt as to the expression she sported. No doubt one of unfathomable hurt and childish innocence. The one that always bent both brothers to her will. The one Edmund had dubbed 'the cross-eyed-puppy'. Of course there was nothing cross-eyed about it, but it was his way to avoid looking whenever it appeared.

Even Peter fell under its spell, but that day Lucy had only eyes for Edmund. "Eddy, pl_eee-ea_se."

"A little help here?" he asked his brother and sister, still looking anywhere, but Lucy's direction. Susan smiled indulgently whilst Peter giggled. "It's not funny!" Edmund tried to assert, but none of the gathered took him very seriously.

Making her decision, Lucy stood and stepped up behind him with her hand out. He closed his eyes with a look of suffering. "Edmund, would you really leave a queen standing?"

He squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Yes, Edmund. Would you deny your sister the chance to dance with you?" Susan asked behind a sticky smile.

In outrage Edmund opened his eyes. "I thought you were on _my_ side!" He then made the mistake of glancing at Lucy. The effect was instantaneous. He groaned and looked away, but quickly looked up when he saw the very real hurt in her eyes. His own expression softened and he sighed. As he took her proffered hand he sent his smiling brother a deadly glare. The high king only giggled.

The instant Lucy realized she had won the sadness slipped away and was replaced by a victorious smile that left little doubt the queen was much older than she appeared. That she had played this game many times before and won each time. "We'll clap a rhythm for you." Peter supplied with a smile as his brother was pulled to the small lawn in front of the white tree.

Edmund shot his brother a very rude hand gesture that none but the Pevensies understood. Susan quickly chastised her younger brother for the profanity, but Peter could only smile. It was hard not to.

Then, with a slow beat, the dance began. Lucy and Edmund swayed in slow circles around one another to the slow rhythm. Susan hummed the melody. Their arms intertwined as if they truly were water and air, trying to hold onto one another. Then, like a great clap of thunder, the tempo quickened. Their feet skipped and hopped in the slick grass, but neither of them faltered even once. More intricate twirls and turns that looped their arms and bodies together like a whirlwind, trying to lift a river.

With the quickening of their heartbeats the dance intensified. As if by magic wind began blowing with them. It picked up the soft fabric of Lucy's skirt until it looked as though she was flying.

All who watched, fell speechless in awe. They watched with gentle smiles.

They never noticed how the two children began moving further and further away. How the wind became sweeter. The small lawn opened up into a wild vista. The mountains in the east fused with the grass and became a meadow, before it transformed into a scape none of them had ever seen a likeness of. Grass so green, it almost sparkled. A sky so blue one could drown in it. Mountains in purple, blue and whites battled for supremacy with the sun as they caressed the clouds. And in the middle of it all, a white tree.

But then, as the dance reached its crescendo, Edmund tripped. He fell to the ground laughing, as his sister stood smiling. The great landscape was still stretched out behind the children and only now did some of the Middle-Earthmen begin to notice. Their smiles faded as they realized the inexplicable beauty of what they were witnessing.

With a smile of his own Peter got up under the pretense of helping his brother. He seemed oblivious to the change in scenery. When he reached his little sister insted of his brother, he nimbly picked her up in a backwards hug. He twirled her around to her great joy until he began tickling her mercilessly. Edmund was slowly making his way up as well.

By now all who still sat at the table had stopped laughing. Their smiles had been replaced with frowns of wonder and mild concern. They didn't understand where this sudden vision had come from. Even as they watched, the three children seemed both younger and older. Their ages became almost impossible to tell the further they went into the field.

Susan realized with a sinking feeling what was happening. They were being called home. The mountains, the field. It was Narnia. Only not how it had been, but how it was promised to those who died before their time. Far-reaching and wonderful.

"Peter!" Susan's cry billowed out across the plains. Aragorn came to stand when she cried.

Seemingly unaffected Edmund danced back to them with his smile fixed. Though it did not remain so. He looked at the stunned faces and realized for himself what was happening. He also realized his sister hadn't gotten up. "Do you not wish to dance?" He was confused. All the aches he had felt here in Middle-Earth had quite suddenly lifted. Memories of what had happened were harder to recall. Behind him the tree began to blossom at a rapid pace and Gandalf's eyes drifted to it. Edmund looked curiously at his sister. She looked so sad.

Susan gazed up at him and wished she felt as he did. Something was keeping her back. Her thigh throbbed painfully, reminding her it had not healed yet. That she was still alive and could hurt. The presence of her friends behind her was very opressing as well. How could she join them when so many things still tied her to this place?

But something in his eyes changed as he looked down at her. Before their eyes he aged. His hair grew longer and his eyes more somber. His clothes changed until they resembled those of the regal Narnians'.

And then he leaned down and placed both hands on his sister's face. He looked deep in her eyes, revealing a spark of wisdom beyond that of elves and man combined. In the dark-brown depths of his soul shone true insight. And then, to his sister he said this: "Pass beyond Rhovanion, Rúhn and the Iron Mountains. Go further in and further up. Run as fast as your legs will carry you till you reach the limits of the land you already love." Where he had learned the names of those places, Susan couldn't guess. For at that moment it was as if something greater was speaking through him.

All were enthralled in silence. Tears were beginning to run down her cheeks as she realized the meaning of his words. They were travel descriptions. They were goodbye.

"There you'll find a garden no larger than this yard." The vista spread out behind him and reminded the others that the things you saw were very often only the surface. "Do not spend a lifetime climbing the wall and crossing the garden when you can go around in only moments." The eyes of every man or woman present lit up with a strange sense of delight and suspense. Then Edmund leaned down and placed a hand on the sides of his beloved sister's face. "We'll be waiting for you when you're ready, my Queen." His words held such devotion that it ached to hear them spoken.

She reached up and grabbed the hands that held her face. Then, with aches so deep she feared she would break, she let him go. When he straightened he found that everyone at the table had risen. That Peter and Lucy were no longer laughing, but had joined the sad farewell.

Peter was staring at his sister without understanding. Why would she not want to join them?

She softened her eyes and saddened as understanding didn't completely take hold in her brother's. He still looked undecided. She didn't know if it was about her choice to stay, but regardles he held his peace.

He had long ago agreed with himself to allow her the choice she was robbed of in England, though he hadn't spoken it aloud. She still had traveling left in her veins, and things that needed to be explored. He knew Gimli had mentioned wanting to explore the Sparkling Caves, and knew she had been sad to hear she would miss it. Perhaps if he let her go, she could still do those things? Perhaps then she would one day come back.

"But remember, sister," Edmund interrupted their private musings. "That your adventure will not end when you one day come home. If anything, it will only grow and become more wonderful than anything beyond our imagining." A silver crown now rested atop his head and sparkled in the sunlight.

"How can such wise words come from such a young man?" Aragorn spoke softly, knowing full well that Edmund's soul was far older than his years. All of theirs. Tears filled his eyes as well.

Susan agreed proudly and had never felt more love for her younger brother than at that moment. Sure that she could only feel more each day.

With a deep sigh, Peter approached her. He too looked both older and younger. His clothes had changed to real regal gowns and his golden crown sat snuggly upon his brow. "When you tire of questing, Sister, we'll be there. I suppose you were right. You never _did_ have that many Narnian adventures."

Susan hoped he would one day come to terms with her departure. "Perhaps I was meant for more than Narnian adventures?" She laughed through a sob and prayed he would not see it as a slight to Narnia. _Their_ Narnia was after all, the only true home she had ever, or would ever have. To her surprise he smiled. And though it seemed a bit forced she hoped it was over leaving and not in disapproval of her desire to stay. He stepped back when Lucy pushed up to her and pulled her into a great, all-encompassing hug. Her hair smelled like spring breezes and citrus flowers the way it had in Narnia. Her gown had changed from a flowery yellow to a deep red velvet dress. Gold stitches and long sleeves. The ones she had worn as a queen.

"Don't you _dare_ forget us," she whispered into her older sister's neck. "Or I _will_ send Peter to come get you." Her voice sounded a little choked and Susan finally released the sob that so desperately wanted to escape. But it would be alright. _Aslan_, it _had_ to be.

As her sister let go Susan saw love and sadness in their faces. They turned as one when a breeze caressed their necks from the wild land behind them. A roar blasted through the air from some unseen place, deep within the wild. "Aslan…" Lucy sighed into the air. As if stuck in a dream the siblings discarded everyone behind them and moved into the field. Like animals following a scent. The grass had grown higher and now reached their thighs.

In the distance Susan saw a flock of wild horses galloping across the plains.

Another roar sounded and the Lucy sent a brilliant smile to her brothers. As one, the three of them began running through the field. Their steps kicked up seeds and little butterflies until the air became so thick it caught the sunlight in ways she had only seen in Narnia. Their feet carried them swiftly through the meadow until they were but specs of dust to the eyes of the Fellowship. And as they finally disappeared from view the lush field transformed back into the small lawn that sat in front of the white tree.

The white tree that now bloomed. Susan got up on unsteady legs and walked to the tree. White blossoms dotted the air like snowfalls in spring, and with a great sigh she closed her eyes.

Her job here was far from done. One job, among many others, would be to pass on her wisdom to Aragorn as he learned to rule his country. She smiled at that knowledge. It felt good to be needed for something other than running a castle. To have freedom the way she never did as queen. This was a new Susan; different from the girl-turned-woman in England, and different from the Gentle Queen as well. This was _Susan_. And _Susan_ had a whole life to decide who she truly was.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> *Looks around a sea of wide eyes* Before you start screaming, remember my first note! This is NOT the end.


	54. Chapter 54: Into the West

**Disclaimer:** As per usual.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait these past couple days. This one is the second last not including the epilogue. Hope you like.

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><p>Chapter 54 – Into the West<p>

As her siblings left, the day felt a little colder. Everyone fell silent as they stared at Susan. Her blue eyes were swimming with tears. It was Aragorn who first moved over and pulled her close. She was shivering, and he felt inside himself such desire to free her of the sorrow.

But it was not until Legolas came up to her, his blue eyes alight with love, that she broke. The shock left her then and she crumbled under the weight of what had suddenly happened. Her siblings were _gone_. She fell to her knees with heartbreaking sobs filling the silent void.

Everyone watched her with tears in their own eyes as well.

That day never really began. It ended with Legolas taking her inside and sitting with her in the long, lonely hours of the afternoon and evening.

As the sun set on her first day alone, she had calmed considerably. She had slept during the day with the elf's calm breathing to steady her, and in her dreams she had been visited by a large, golden lion. She recognized him instantly as Aslan and wept when he lay down beside her. She had dreamt of Kennington Park in London where her mother used to take the four of them in the summers. There hadn't been any people, which had convinced Susan it truly was a dream. She had wept and then asked about her siblings. Were they happy? Did they miss her? Did they feel betrayed by her decision?

To all her questions He only smiled and gave her a Lion's kiss on the forehead. And then in his soothing voice He said: "I cannot tell you _their_ story, young one. I can only tell you that everything is as it should be."

To this she wept again, but Aslan held her. In the warm, summer day she fell asleep between his paws. When she woke up she found herself snuggled in Legolas' arms. The sun was coming in through the window and a sweet smell filled the room. Neither of them left that room until the next morning. Just laying quietly in each other's arms.

By then the hobbits had already left, but Gandalf stayed behind. In the days to come she and the last four members of the Fellowship spoke often of Narnia. She told them all she could remember and slowly began to feel better. The shock and sadness left her as the days became longer. The summers were long in Minas Tirith, Aragorn said, but winter would eventually come. He often mentioned how he missed his old home. She began studying Arnor and the old seat of the kings, Annuminas to fill her quiet afternoons. As the days turned to weeks Aragorn and Gandalf began talking about leaving. Legolas and Gimli vowed they would follow whatever their king decided. Susan watched and nodded whenever Aragorn did something particularly praiseworthy. She had no idea how much that helped the new king grow.

Gandalf promised to stay as long as he was needed, which turned out not to be very long.

The move happened shortly thereafter. It was no small thing, moving the seat of government to another city. Rebuilding that city to its forgotten glory. Susan fell into a content role as advisor to the king. Both kings, as Eomer had now taken his uncle's throne, though she never spoke much with either. On many occasions she would travel to Edoras where Eomer reigned. Even there they knew of the child sovereigns. They remembered Susan and knew of the strange creature Aslan, that was said to be Eru in another form. As word of the Lion spread through the land on the sweet, spring breezes, so did peace.

In the years after the war the members of the Fellowship met many times. Each time was as bright as a summer's day. Even in the depths of winter where, one year, Susan convinced them all to celebrate Christmas. She tried to remember what her mother taught her about cooking, but was terribly forgetful about certain things. About the proper amount of sugar in eggnog and the Christmas Carrols they used to sing. Gimli became terribly ill on eggnog and made her promise to never again make it.

As spring arrived, almost three years after her arrival, she still sometimes thought of London. She still missed her siblings, and a part of her even wished she hadn't died when she did. Though it was a very small part. A sadness she could easily dispel by thinking of Aslan or how many exciting things she had seen since coming here.

She met often with her friends. The hobbits came to Annuminas and she frequently visited King Eomer. Peace reigned over the lands and the nations began to grow in the aftermath of the war. One day, as she watched two children playing on the steps of the Royal House where she lived with Aragorn and Arwen, and where ministers and generals convened in somber councils, she was reminded of home. It was not uncommon, but this memory was not of war. I wasn't of darkness, but of light. Of two children, playing a game much like theirs, but in a completely different world.

A world that had already been ravaged by wars. One that had healed itself. She realized then how well she knew about growth. About the importance of little moments of peace. The sense of peace she felt, watching the two children, stayed with her till the evening. She met later with Gandalf in his private study. The old wizard was sitting in a large chair by the window, reading an old book.

She approached him without a word and stood beside the chair. Her blue eyes gazed over the city that would from now on be seat of kings. Annuminas. She already liked it. It was more colorful than Minas Tirith where Faramir now governed as Steward under Aragorn. Where Eowyn now lived. The thought of them made her smile. The two would do very well together. She glanced down when Gandalf closed the book and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," she said. Her voice had softened significantly since her siblings' departure. And with every passing day those around her claimed she spoke less and less.

He looked up at her from his low chair. "Not at all, my Queen. What brings this unexpected visit?"

She glanced at his book, but quickly turned back to the window. The sun was setting and they had a magnificent view of the west. "I was reminded today that I made a good decision all those months ago."

"Remaining even though your siblings left,"

"Yes." For a moment her eyes lost their somber appearance and took on a serene glow. "I was reminded of London."

"Ahh how I would have loved to gaze upon such a city." He joined her in admiring the view. "A place of wonders."

"Not for us. For us Narnia was such a place. Middle-Earth..." she mumbled.

He looked up at her again and cracked a quick smile. "As time has passed I have come to believe the Lion made a very wise decision, picking you four."

"Oh?"

"You truly are wonders to behold." His voice sounded admiring. He returned his eyes to the horizon and for a moment she wondered if he was really talking about them, or about the sunset. "I've begun work on a book. One I expect will be completed soon."

"Frodo has too," She smiled. Sam had sent word from the Shire. That book would no doubt inspire many generations to come.

"Yes." Gandalf smiled. "But mine is not about the war."

"No?" She glanced down at him with an arched brow.

"It is a children's story." His smile widened until it became almost cheerful. "About a great Lion."

His soft voice brought a smile to her face. She looked at him with eyes wide in wonder. "Will you read it to me?" Without asking permission she grabbed a chair and pulled it over. Her old wound stung a little, but the pain vanished like a breeze in the sky.

"Oh," Gandalf looked sad. "I'm afraid it's not finished."

"I won't mind." she assured him with a big smile. She sat down and curled her legs beneath her expectantly.

"Well," He looked into her eyes until her smile broke him from his thoughts. "Very well then." He put the book he had been reading away, and picked up another. A heavy, leather-bound one. "It is quite long," he said as he flipped to the first page. She just smiled in silence. "It is the story of four siblings, and how they came to enter a world they had never imagined..."

She sat enraptured as he told the story of four children who delivered not one, but two worlds from tyranny. He read from the pages of his book until he reached the very last one. By the end Susan was smiling, though she felt quite tired. The story truly was a long one. "And what happens in the end?"

Gandalf closed the tome and allowed it to rest on his lap. "Oh I haven't decided yet." And he looked at her. Not as someone who was proud of his work, but of someone who knew _exactly_ how the story would end.

After that day Gandalf never again doubted her whenever she spoke of Aslan.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> One more to go and then the epilogue. I'll try to update each day. Promise.


	55. Chapter 55: Tales of Home

**Disclaimer:** When Tolkien and Lewis began working on these magnificent pieces they unwittingly created something that would outlive them. For someone to accomplish such a thing takes talent and skill. I hope to hone those skills and have been doing so by writing this story. From all my heart: Here you are. "I only hope to be as valuable as every breath I take".

**Author's Note:** I looked at the chapter and I realized it was done. This is very short and only written to tie everything together in a neat bow. But it does NOT end here...either. It will sometime, but not yet. The epilogue will have to wait though because it's not ready yet :) Thank you to all who have read and to those who've reviewed as well. You're the reason I write.

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><p>Chapter 55 – Tales of Home<p>

It was in the long days after her siblings had been returned home. Not long after Lord Elrond had taken Gandalf and Frodo to the undying lands. The Gentle Queen hardly spoke anymore. When asked why she said that she preferred to listen.

That day was a bright and sunny one. The court of Telcontar was out for the day. King Eomer was visiting with his wife and newborn daughter, Ea. The crown princess and future queen of Rohan. The hobbits Merry and Pippin were on their second, annual visit to the land of Arnor. Eowyn was gazing sweetly at Faramir every chance she had and he always smiled right back. He had made her a crown of flowers and kissed her cheek. They were still not married, but everyone hoped it would only be a matter of time. No one spoke of it of course, afraid of embarrassing the young lovers.

The only one missing from the festivities was Sam. He and his wife had just had their second child and he was very much needed at home.

"So," Merry chewed contently on a piece of smoked ham. The last scrap of food on the table. "We hear all these exciting rumors about the old tower of Isengard."

Aragorn shared a smile with his loving, and very pregnant, wife. "The two, old kingdoms have once again been reunited and need a neutral meeting ground. Somewhere that reminds them of what was lost and gained."

The hobbit asked him to elaborate, in answer to which the king entered into a rather lengthy explanation. One far too complicated to retell. It was only after a while, when the conversation reached a natural pause, that Pippin caught the eye of Susan and smiled. "Won't you tell us a story about _your_ homeland?" He had heard many before, but always felt like he was barely scratching the surface.

The question came as quite a shock to the gathered. Both because the memories were surely sad ones for the queen, but also because they feared a long story might drain her of energy. None of them expected her to answer, and all paused in wonder when she actually did.

"In the world known as Narnia there were so many wonders I could tell you about. To the north there were the great plains of never-ending darkness, where the world abruptly stopped with mighty cliffs plummeting into the deep. The south was inhabited by men with skin as black as ink. Men who were all blinded by the low-hanging sun. The only creatures there were the great salamanders that sparkled like diamonds," She would only look at the hobbit and for most of them it suddenly became rather apparent that she was telling the story only because he had asked.

No one dared interrupt as she spoke. "Or I could tell you tales from the west where my brother ruled so well. If you journeyed that way you would find forests that closely resembled those of dreams. You would see forests so still and warm they could only have been described as gateways to that elusive 'Paradise'. Continue walking and you would have seen mountains that reached into the sky, and beyond, a garden that no one ever visited, for all who entered there were meant to."

The entire company was stunned to silence, not only because of the flourish of words, but also the calm voice with which she uttered them. She was satisfied to see held their attention, and was distantly reminded of a trip down a river years before. "But those aren't the stories I wish to tell you this day." She looked up and closed her eyes into the warm sun. "The tale I wish to tell took place in the sparkling east. There you wouldn't have found steep cliffs bathed in darkness, gemstone lizards, or magical gardens. The journey was one you took by sea. You sailed until the sun no longer rose in the east. Until the waters ran sweet and water lilies bobbed on the surface."

"And then what?" To Pippins delight she made it feel as though there was only the two of them left in the whole world.

"And _then_ you would see it." Her eyes again drifted east.

"See what?" he asked with his mouth hanging slightly open.

Susan looked at him with a smile and suddenly, with a deep inhale and as if jumping from the highest mountain only to experience the sensation of falling, he knew exactly what she meant.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>And that meaning is up to you all to enterpret. I leave the ending in your capable hands and hope it was as magical for you as it was for me. Goodbye and 'till next time.


	56. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** Here we go for real. One last time: Thank you to Tolkien and Lewis for writing amazing works of fiction that allowed all of us the opportunity to build upon them and explore their universes.

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all the readers as well. Thank you to the reviewers. You are all amazing. Thank you to all those who added this story to their favorite list. Thanks to all those who added _me_ to their favorite list because of this story. And last, but certainly not least (all though she _is_ rather short): Thank you to my beta who's been with me and inspired me since the beginning of this story: Jeanet.

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><p>"<em>Remember today, little brother."<em> - Boromir

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><p><span>Epilogue<span>

There had been red on the horizon that morning, though no blood had been spilled for some time. All day long colors had glowed like a kaleidoscope with diamante-like clarity. And even now, as the sun set, they still shone. But Susan wasn't particularly impressed with the colors in the sky that day. She had seen a thousand magnificent sunsets in Narnia and Middle-Earth, and the colors here only ever reminded her of her old home. She had even surprised herself a little. It had been some months since she had last thought of her beloved Narnia, but for the past days it had been hard to think of anything else.

The skies were coming to life after the heavy rainstorms that swept over Rohan three months every year. It marked the beginning of spring. Susan had always preferred autumn, but something about _this_ year made her hopeful.

"I know that look." His deep voice was like a balm to her soul. Even Shadowfaxe neighed softly under her fragile hands. She had now heard it so many times that she could _hear_ him smile. She and Legolas were two out of the last three, living members of a Fellowship, most knew only from tales.

She smiled without turning away from the magnificent view. "I had always hoped it would be you to take this journey with me, Legolas."

"Not Arwen?"

"No," Susan and the elf queen had become close friends over the years. Arwen and Aragorn had raised several strong children. Their eldest son, Eldarion Telcontar, was next in succession as high king of The Reunited Kingdom after his father. The very throne Aragorn had so long ago ascended and still possessed. "We've already said our goodbyes."

Legolas nodded.

Susan glanced over at her companion, riding quietly beside her. "And you don't intend to _say_ goodbye, do you?"

He smiled into the sunset. "Should I?"

It saddened her to think of him staying behind. The years had been kind to her, but she had still spent nearly five decades in this world. She, Legolas and Gimli had seen all it had to offer while Aragorn governed not one, but two kingdoms. "I'm not sure you can follow me where I aim to go." The dwarf had died years ago. Susan and Legolas had both assisted in the burial.

"If you wanted me to, I would _crawl_." He didn't see her sadness. She hoped it didn't mean he was oblivious. Instead of interrupting his stubborn perseverance she decided to play along. For the time being.

"What would my brothers say?"

"They would hear of our adventures and welcome me with open arms," He smirked and only then glanced in her direction. The years had not made her any less beautiful. Though her hair had gone from black to white she had still retained some part of her that he doubted would ever change. "I would tell them how my love for you saved me from a fate I had never even considered."

She smiled, but he knew she didn't understand. Not fully.

"My trust in humans had long since disappeared when Lord Elrond one day brought a young boy to meet me," He had told her the story of how he and Aragorn met, many times. "That boy managed to revive a feeling of loyalty and empathy I had forgotten. I learned to trust him like I would a brother."

Every time he told her that story she smiled.

"But _you_, Susan. . ." He looked at her from atop his horse. "You restored my faith in _all_ of you."

"Perhaps that was why Aslan intended for me to stay for so long," The smile slipped from her face. She would have to tell him soon. Evening was falling and she doubted she would be able to travel much longer. "Perhaps it was why he made me love you." She had a sudden flash of regret over never consummating that love. Even though over fifty years had passed he still looked as he did the day she met him. A fond memory she still sometimes relived. Back then everything had been so new.

"As I love you." he said with the emotion beaming from his face.

"But this is also why I don't think you were meant to follow," She looked down and gently pulled Shadowfaxe to a stop. "I don't think you're mine to keep, Legolas, Lord of Mirkwood. My prince and my very best of friends,"

"Then may Aslan forgive me for following." His expression hardened and she then realized what she next had to say would kill him. "I gave up my kingdom long ago when I agreed to journey far to the east and destroy a ring everyone said could not be destroyed." He had stopped also and was staring at her with conviction. "I made my choice before I ever met you,"

"The choice was never mine. Nor was it yours." She looked around and decided here was where she would rest. Legolas jumped down and assisted her off the horse, though it bowed for her. "The only choice that now remains is one we never thought ourselves lucky enough to make."

"If you will have me, I will follow you to the end of the earth."

"If I had but one wish _that_ would be it." She grasped his cheek in one of her wrinkled hands and smiled. "But that's not the choice I speak of."

He helped her sit and kneeled in front of her. "What other choice is there?"

"To be here for one another in our final hours." She rubbed her sore legs and fleetingly missed the strength of her youth.

"What are you talking about?" He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're not far from the Garden."

She smiled and put her little hand on his chest. "I won't make it to the Garden, Legolas."

Her admission hit him as a kick to the stomach. His smile melted off and was replaced with a concerned frown. She could tell he was about to ask what she meant when her vision blurred and she swayed. He caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. She was panting. Her heart was pounding, struggling to pump blood through her veins. She tried to smile, but imagined it looked rather desperate. "Perhaps we should rest… for the night?" She had to pause and breathe.

His shock transformed to heartbreaking concern. His eyes filled with tears as he gently tended to her. There was little he could do to stop the slow approach of death, but she knew he would try nevertheless. "You need a full night of rest." He tried to smile, but failed miserably when she coughed and shuddered in exhaustion.

"Yes," she whispered. Shadowfaxe was walking around with Legolas' horse in front of the setting sun. A chilling wind was ripping across the plains and rustling the grass. It made the plains look as though they were a billowing sea. "Would you…would you lie down with me?"

He lowered himself by her side with one arm around her head. The other reached across her slender chest and pulled her closer. She smiled and welcomed the closeness. With a deep exhale she buried her face in his shirt and almost laughed in joy when he placed a feather light kiss on her head. It was a moment of true love. One she could not remember feeling before. One she was sad to think she would never feel with him again.

"Sleep," he whispered brokenly into her hair, and she gladly complied.

As her eyes closed, her breathing slowed. And with a last breath her heart finally gave out.

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><p>The sensation that followed was one of being sucked through the eye of a pin and spread too far all at once. The next second everything in her body hurt. She instinctively took a deep breath and tears sprang to her eyes. An incessant beeping filled whatever space she was in. Everything was sore and at the same time a little numb. When she opened her eyes she had a brief moment of insecurity. She looked around and saw she was in a room. White curtains hung in the stale air. A smell of formaldehyde and musk.<p>

"Hello, sweetheart." a kind woman's voice greeted. The next she knew a hand was running over her forehead.

"Wh-" She coughed. The woman, who was dressed from head to toe in white, brought her a drink of water. "Where am I?" Her throat was scratchy and her voice was hoarse as if it hadn't been used in weeks.

"You're in the Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston." Her eyes softened as she gazed down at Susan.

With a deep inhale and with water flooding her eyes she realized the horrible truth. A truth more brutal than she had imagined. "I'm in America?"

The woman, she now realized was a nurse, stared at her in concern when Susan began breathing erratically. "I'll get the doctor," she stuttered and ran out of the room.

Tears began rolling down Susan's cheeks. She was back. Back to where it all began, and apparently where it was all supposed to end. For a moment she felt so betrayed. So alone. Her family was gone. At least in Middle-Earth she had had friends. She'd had people. Here she would have no one. She would spend her days alone, three lifetimes older than she should have been. It wasn't fair. She whimpered and fisted her hands into the sheet. It wasn't fair for her to be left behind like this. She rolled to her side and began openly sobbing when a calm voice interrupted her grief.

"Shh, easy." A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she tried to stop the flow of tears. "You've been in a coma for almost a week. I'm sure it's just the shock of things."

She had half a mind to tell him it was no such thing. That she was far wiser than he would ever be. Had seen more than he would ever. She turned, majorly assisted by the doctor, about to tell him just that. Then she saw his eyes. It was a shape she had seen before, but a different color. Soft brown eyes stared down at her. A gentle smile soothed her aches a little.

She found herself relaxing quite against her better judgment. But there was something so hauntingly familiar about the face that was peering down at her that moment. Brown eyed, dark haired and stunning. But it was his features. His sharp jaw and thin lips. The high cheekbones and the way his eyes crinkled when he was smiling. Even though she couldn't remember where she had seen him before she found she quite liked him. Trusted him even.

"What's your name?" He carefully took her pulse.

"Susan."

He glanced up quickly with a smile. "You're British?" It widened.

"You're American," she said with a smart-alecky smile.

"Do you have any family we can call?"

She couldn't quite understand this sudden tingle that rippled through her. "No. They've died."

He stopped and studied her. Soft, brown curls framed his face and Susan realized with a sense of embarrassed horror that she was falling in love. "Oh. I'm sorry."

When she next smiled, the oddest things happened. It dawned on her that she was most likely suffering from shock and that this so-called "love" she was feeling towards the handsome doctor was probably just misplaced gratitude.

And lastly, with a soaring sense of joy, she realized that he was smiling _back_ at her.

**The End**

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Thanks again. I know there's no real need for any of you to review this, but this is actually the one I really need your help with. I wanna know how you felt at the end just now. How you feel about the story stopping the way it did, what you would have done differently and how bad you want a sequel :P (last one not as important as previous)


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